Try Only To Fail
by our dancing days
Summary: Sequel to the 27th Games. The victor has been chosen, the chess Game is over. At least, that's what they all thought. Now, watch her fly as those around her fall. Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the show. / *Novel - COMPLETE*
1. The Beginning: The Tribute List

The Capitol: Amelia Airhate

I watched, and I waited. Lights appeared on the screen and the President was shown. He smiled a smile worthy of a circling shark, going in for the attack.

Panem's anthem played out to us through the television screen and our emblem was shown.

"This year, the Reapings will be held on a very special day. It was the day that the districts fell, and the Capitol rightly took its place in power once more. It is a fact that all of the rebel leaders were females. Therefore, in honour of this historic event, all districts will submit 2 females. There will be 36 tributes in total, because however hard the districts may try, numbers are nothing when you are faced with inevitable death. Ladies and gentlemen, let the 28th Hunger Games begin."

I froze with shock, and Marylin squealed beside me.

"These will be the best Games ever!" She cried, and I nodded eagerly.

Let the games begin.

* * *

District and Tributes:

District 1 male - Precious Gems and Jewels: **Rolf Cadomay (17)**

_District 1 female: _**Ivory Noire (16)**

District 1 female: **Sequin Allure (17)**

District 2 male - Medical and Military Research: **Floyd Barabe (18)**

_District 2 female: _**Isabella Rose (13)**

District 2 female: **Trista Angel (17)**

District 3 male - Technology and Machinery: **Michael Rubins (12)**

_District 3 female: _**Mimi Madeline Lombardi (16)**

District 3 female: **Tara Green Flowers (16)**

District 4 male - Fishing: **Perkele Fin (18)**

_District 4 female: _**Morganna Renn (17)**

District 4 female: **Mylene Frostblight (16)**

District 5 male - Mathematics: **Nicandro "Nico" O' Malley (12)**

_District 5 female: _**Kelby Fuse (15)**

District 5 female: **Kiera May Winters (15)**

District 6 male - Scientific Research: **Wolf Spanes (12)**

_District 6 female: _**Rosemary Angel (13)**

District 6 female: **Anya Rayne (14)**

District 7 male - Lumber and Paper: **Derek Tyras (15)**

_District 7 female: _**Lacey Kalax (16) **

District 7 female: **Somber Thrax (17)**

District 8 male - Materials and Fabrics: **Charlie Haven (13)**

_District 8 female: _**Schatten "Shadow" Tomar (13)**

District 8 female: **Kendal Resista (15)**

District 9 male - Food: **Tristan Workle (17)**

_District 9 female: _**Tatiana "Tanya" Braeburn (13)**

District 9 female: **Brook Callins (14)**

District 10 male - Cattle and Herding: **Ashton "Ash" Samuels (15)**

_District 10 female: _**Cori Wren Harlow (16)**

District 10 female: **Mare Warrens (18)**

District 11 male - Agriculture: **Ruse Kennedy (14)**

_District 11 female: _**Annaliese "Anna" Konra (16)**

District 11 female: **Azalea Rose Caloway (13)**

District 12 male - Mining:** Samuel "Sam" Jacobs (16) **

_District 12 female: _**Gisli Raylor (17)**

District 12 female: **Marta Wren Harris (15)**

Ladies and gentlemen... may the odds be _ever _in your favour...


	2. The Reapings Part 1: Spotlights

24 tributes are about to be chosen...24 lives turned upside down...who will survive the wrath of the reaping ball...and who will face death? Ladies and gentlemen, let the Games begin.

Main Characters: Sequin Allure, Isabella Rose and Storm Marlinfield.

* * *

District 1: Sequin Allure 

I brushed my silvery blonde hair, making sure it fell perfectly down past my slender shoulders and to rest just above my elbows.

I flicked my hair over my shoulder, and practised my award- winning smile in my mirror, making sure I was as drop- dead gorgeous as I usually was. If anything, I was even more stunning. These were the Reapings after all, and so I had to dress to impress.

My violet, figure hugging dress was as short as I dared to wear around my mother, and I had on simple silver ballet flats. Complete with my silver pendant and big, sparkly, _expensive _violet gem, it was an outfit fit for the Capitol.

I flashed another smile to myself, before sauntering out of my bedroom door and into our big farmhouse kitchen.

"Sequin, have you been getting ready all of this time? Look at your dress! It's a lot shorter than I remember...have you cut it?" My mother exploded at me as soon as I opened the door. I rolled my violet eyes impatiently and grabbed a slice of toast from on top of the counter.

I stared at her, not answering her question and pointedly flipping my hair in her face as I walked away.

"We're going to be late, seeing as we have to pack all that extra attitude you're carrying," my mother retorted annoyingly, but I just continued to ignore her. I slammed the door behind me with obvious, unneeded force.

I saw my best friends waiting in the square, all in dresses, talking amongst themselves. They squealed when they saw me, and rushed over to where I was standing immediately.

"Sequin, you look amazing!" Gemma cried, brandishing her hands to the sides in delight.

"Your hair is perfect!" Opal complimented, and I swung my hair over my slender shoulder in response.

"I love your dress!" Sapphire yelled, reaching out to touch the silky fabric. I curtseyed and they all giggled.

"My mother bought this useless thing! It looks like it's made of rags compared to yours!" Gigi moaned as she motioned to her tatty, lemon coloured dress that hung even below her knobbly knees. I nodded my head sympathetically, and we all laughed.

Together we walked arm in arm towards the front of the square, and the 17 year old section. We stood very near the stage to get a good view of this year's tributes, one of which would hopefully be moi.

"Hello again District 1! The Hunger Games are back for another exciting year!" Shimmer Laclayre declared, her metallic golden hair blowing slightly in the breeze. I huffed, thinking she was just trying to copy my amazing good looks and silvery blonde hair without success.

She had body glitter all over her body, and I smiled victoriously as I thought of the way my skin shone and almost glowed without the need of common glitter. Her makeup was girly and sparkly, and looked like it had been applied by a 5 year old to me.

I sighed, because every year she made a fool of herself. I mean, last year she was all pink. I loved pink, but that was really over the top.

"For this year's female tribute we have, drum roll please-" She slipped her delicate, shimmery hand into the Reaping ball. "-Topaz Couture!"

A girl with mousy brown hair and unremarkable brown hair approached the stage, head bent, as though entering the Games wasn't an honour and a chance for fame and fortune. I sighed; some people would never learn.

"And now we have our boy tribute...Rolf Cadomay!" Shimmer announced to the crowd, and a tallish boy with slick, white blond hair and steel grey eyes approached the stage.

Two people, obviously his proud parents, clapped and cheered as their son towered over the District 1 escort.

"And for our twist...our extra girl tribute is Sequin Allure!" I smiled like a shark and trotted over to the steps, sending my cool yet charming gaze over the crowd of District 1. I was the first ever extra girl in the Games; and I felt I deserved it.

"Excuse me, future victor coming through," I said to a small, scrawny boy standing in the 13 year old section who was standing in my way. I flicked my hair, again, over my shoulder was stood importantly in my rightful place next to the escort.

"Any volunteers for Topaz?" Shimmer asked the audience, sparkly make up glinting in the sunshine.

A girl with shoulder length, shiny black hair and midnight blue dark eyes seemed to rise up out of the crowd and shouted out, "I volunteer!" She didn't wait for objections; just walked towards the stage with a triumphant glint in her eye.

I sneered at her, and turned my attention back to my District, at who I was now smiling my heart out, willing to do anything for the cameras.

"And your name is?" The escort asked her as she took her place on the stage. She smiled, and replied cheerfully,

"Ivory. Ivory Noire, and you won't forget it." I continued to train my narrowed eyes on her; she was still my spotlight.

"Anyone willing to take Rolf's place in this year's Games?" Shimmer questioned, looking through the children for a sight of a hand going up or a shuffle. You could almost hear a ruby drop in the silence, because Rolf's hard eyes were glaring at the crowd, daring anyone to even try and take his glory.

"No? Okay, is anyone else going to have the honour of being the extra tribute?" I felt my violet eyes narrowed, and a small girl shouted out feebly,

"I volunteer for the Games!" I turned my gaze on her, and she shrunk back. Her hand fell from the sky and she glanced around nervously.

"And what's your name?" Shimmer asked her sweetly, but she replied,

"Um, I won't volunteer; it's fine." Her voice was very small and I smiled kindly at her, but all of my venom was in my deathly stare.

I turned back to the escort, who coughed and called out, "Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for District 1: Ivory Noire, Rolf Cadomay and Sequin Allure!" I bowed to the crowd, and waved to the cameras and the rest of the Capitol.

No one was going to steal my spotlight.

District 2: Isabella Rose

"Mother, we're going to be late!" I screeched, adjusting the bow in my hair. It was a beautiful deep blue, and it matched my silk dress.

I brushed my auburn hair lightly, and practise smiling in the mirror. Just for effect, I decided to make sure I get my pitch just right when I volunteered. "I volunteer. I volunteer! I volunteer...I volunteer to be a tribute!"

"Isabella, what are you doing? You do know that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness; don't make me escort you to the hospital on Reaping day," my mother scowled at me, and I returned the gesture.

I raised my head high, and marched past her.

"Mother, if the wind direction changes, your face will freeze like that," I replied, peering into the mirror to check my already perfect make-up. She was constantly drilling that phrase into my head, and sometimes I felt as though she was using a blow horn to bellow in my ears.

I raised my eyebrows as she shook her head, and I grabbed my token, a small brooch in the shape of a crown, and headed out of the door. I found Tamara already outside waiting for me, and I smiled at my older sister as we walked towards the square of District 2.

Tamara kissed me on the cheek and wished me luck before she headed to the 17 year old section, and I to the 13. There I spotted Carlin, Neala and Victoria all waiting for me anxiously.

I waved to them, and they all smiled as I approached our little gathering.

"Are you really going to volunteer, Izzy?" Vicky asked me, and I nodded excitedly and we all burst into chatter about the daily gossip I missed whilst asleep.

"Well, Esmarelda and Gareth broke up because she caught Gareth talking to Jezebel. She was really upset," Carly told me sadly, and I replied,

"I always knew he was no good for her." I said it in a matter- of- fact way, as though I had known this all along and was just waiting for everyone else to catch on. My friends stared at me in awe before we started another conversation.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, to the Reapings of District 2!" Gala Ey announced, and her odd midnight blue skin almost reflected the sunlight blaring down on us, and her brilliant white tattoos stood out.

She smiled out at the crowd, before dipping her hand into the reaping ball and pulling out a single sheet of paper, with a name I couldn't see printed on it.

"And our female tribute is Trista Angel!" A girl with strawberry blonde hair and icy blue eyes approached the stage. There was something hidden in her pupils, in the way she muttered to herself, and kept taking quick glances left and right.

Her icy blue eyes were haunted with insanity.

"Okay, our next tribute is Floyd Barabe! Come on up!" Gala called out, and a tall, bulky boy with deep brown hair and black piercing eyes climbed the steps, an evil danger lurking behind his gruff, cynical smile. He towered over the petite escort.

"For our final and extra tribute we have Vivika Turner!" A tall, blonde 16 year old lifted her head up her despite the tears obviously pricking in her eyes.

I took the opportunity and, not wanting anyone to steal my long- awaited glory, called out, "I volunteer as a tribute!" My high voice echoed around the District Square as jaws dropped and eyes widened.

I smiled confidently, and despite Gala timidly trying to stop me, I walked up on stage and into the spotlight.

"And what's your name sweetie?" Gala asked me, defeated.

I smiled at the cameras, and waved to Tamara, before I replied, "Isabella Rose, but you can't call be Bella."

The escort looked at me strangely before turning back towards the crowd. Her black, shining hair stuck out slightly, and didn't sway beautifully like mine did in the breeze.

"Any other volunteers for this year's 28th Hunger Games?" For once our District was silent, and I turned towards my other competitors. Floyd barely paid attention to me, but Trista stared at me as though I was wearing a winter coat in July.

"Lily, you might've looked like her," she said, but I didn't think the words were directed at me. I shuffled away slightly, and shook my head.

I smiled again to the crowd, and I saw my parents smiling up at me. Tamara was motioning to my dress, and I realised I still had the brooch in my hand. I fastened it to my deep blue dress, before thanking her with my deep set grey eyes.

This was my time in the spotlight, for once. And no one was going to ruin it for me.

District 4: Storm Marlinfield

"Aqua, come on!" I shouted up to my little sister, securing the tie around my neck like a hangman's noose. One year ago today, I had been Reaped to die. Now, I stood here perfectly alive, but perfectly haunted.

Somehow, everything seemed wrong to me.

"Storm, calm down; she's coming," Ellanor said to me, resting her hand on my shoulder.

I looked around the house I had called home for a year, and yet I yearned to be back in our tiny, little two bedroom cottage at the other end of District 4. I also yearned for the fate that I hadn't been reaped last year, but that would never happen.

I paced the floor, checking my new watch every so often. I hated wearing one, being reminded of the time, of ticking clocks. It only bought back memories.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Aqua shouted out, whilst she raced down the stairs in a sea green dress. She pulled on any pair of shoes, and the three of us walked out of the door. Mother and Father had already left, as Ellanor and I had said we'd take our little sister.

As we entered the District 4 square it felt strange not to go to the 18 year old section like I would have done, should have done. Instead, and walked on stage for the second time in my life, and sat down next to two other mentors.

There were three tributes for these Games; meaning 35 innocent children had to die. It made me sick to even think about it, about that fact that now, every tribute's odds were even more against them than normal, and that was truly saying something.

"Hello District 4! Hopefully we'll have another eventful year!" The escort, Marielle Delany called out to us, with a quick glance behind her, straight at me as she spoke of last year. I scowled at her turned back, and then looked out at the children ready to go to the slaughter house and sighed.

Life was never fair.

"For our first female tribute we have...Morganna Renn!" She called out, and a tall, slim 17 year old with piercing blue eyes and cropped auburn hair came towards us, a grimace on her face. She didn't seem overly upset for being chosen; she just seemed to have accepted it.

"Now, for our only male contender we have...Perkele Fin! Perkele, come on up here!" Another tall, tan boy with ginger hair and deep brown eyes approached the stage, a wide smile on his handsome face. He waved slightly to his crowd of cheering friends and family before standing beside Marielle.

"For our extra girl tribute this year we have Mylene Frostblight!"

Mylene. Not my cousin Mylene. I recognised her face, but I still breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Aqua was safe for another year, that she was safe from Hell for another 365 days. But still, another of my family members had followed in my footsteps.

I breathed in quickly, noting the scared way she looked at me, and the steely determination I knew from my childhood.

The tribute's long, straight brown hair swayed slightly as she walked, and her classic District 4 crystal blue eyes shone as she watched the stage. She was the only tribute to shake Marielle's hand, and she smiled sadly at her District, and at me.

I knew all too well how she felt right then; that the odds were not in her favour, and that she just didn't want the spotlight trained on her.

* * *

What do you think? Nicandro and Rosemary's Reapings will be coming soon, and I hoped you loved reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it! I hope I got your tribute's right, so please tell me in a review!

Can you rate the chapter? 1-10, with 1 being terrible and 10 being you'll love me forever! Thank you so much and I want loads of reviews please! No brick walls!

*~Joy~*


	3. The Reapings Part 2: Change the past

The Games are soon to begin...but what pawns will be chosen...who will the black king take hostage...who will escape the chessboard...who will escape the Game? Ladies and gentlemen, let the Games begin.

Main Characters: Nicandro "Nico" O'Malley, Rosemary Angel, Derek Tyras and Schatten "Schat" Tomar.

* * *

District 5: Nicandro "Nico" O' Malley

I looked in the mirror, sunlight pouring through my window and onto my sullen, pale face.

I couldn't help but point out my differences from my brother; my hair was so dark it was almost black, and I had always been taller despite the age gap. He had always been more tanned, even though he preferred to be locked up in his small room with a book than outside.

The only thing we had in common was our bright blue eyes, piercing and vibrant as a summer's day.

Now, I wished for nothing more than to not see my brother's dead eyes in the mirror, wanted to make sure I was as different from him as possible. As a small, aching feel built up in my chest, I lost hope. I didn't have money for contacts, and I knew all too well that you couldn't change the past, however much you tried.

"Nico! It's time to leave, honey!" I heard my mother shout from outside, tapping gently on the glass window.

I tore my blue eyes away from the memories in the mirror, and headed out of the door and towards the District square. It was already packed with people, crying children and worried mothers and protective fathers. We all grew together on Reaping day, because we had all felt the pain when one of our own dies in that bloody arena.

Sometimes, I knew the sadness threatened to drown us in tears and swallow us all in its unmerciful clutches.

"Hey, Nico," I heard Philby say from behind me, his body slightly hidden by the shadows. He looked at me sympathetically, and turned away quickly. He too couldn't meet my eyes; I knew that Steath had been his friend too.

"Hey Philby. How's life in the fast lane?"

I always greeted him like this, because he lived in the richer part of our district, the town. He wasn't much well off, but more that I had ever been. I never envied him though; his parents were good people who worked hard to get where they were. My parents had also worked just as hard and yet they stayed where they were, as frightened of change as I had been. Now, I just openly hated it.

"It's okay. How many slips have you got in this year?" He asked me, words carefully chosen as not to upset me. Steath had had only 8 in last year, and now I had 10. Extra tessaree, as my brother was no longer there to collect some with me.

"Ten; you?" I questioned, but I already knew how much. His family never needed any extra tessaree, they never needed the extra, hard grain to make stale bread from and sell at the black market for a few added pennies.

"Only four this year," he said, with a nervous side-ways glance my way. I smiled what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

We separated, me going to the fourteen year old section, Philby moving one place to my right. Then Trixie Woodlocke, our escort again for this year, appeared on stage, her smile bright and way too happy. My scowl reflected what I felt inside as I looked at her bright blue hair and sparkly, unnatural golden eyes.

"Hello, District 5! The Games are back again for another year, and hopefully they'll be twice as eventful as the last! May the odds be ever in your favours! And now, I announce the girl tribute..."

Her hand slipped into the Reaping ball standing one metre high, jammed packed with slips of paper, every one possibly about to end a life, an innocent life. What families would mourn another child this year? "Keira May Winters!"

A small girl, smaller than a lot of people her age, appeared from the 15 year old section in the Square. Her long, curly red hair was classic for District 5 and her light brown eyes resembled that of a doe, another classic look for our district. She had on a blue blouse and a white frilly skirt which clung to her thin, stick like body.

A few cries travelled through the waiting audience from her family and friends, and a few heads shook. We all knew the pain of losing someone, we all knew what it was like to lose hope.

"And for our next lucky tribute-" I snorted at that, earning a few glares from nearby kids, but I didn't cover it up, just smiled slyly at them.

"Nicandro O'Malley!"

I looked around for signs of a person moving through the parting crowd, but nobody moved. I stretched my head over the others easily, but still no one approached the stage from any of the age sections. Then I saw Philby waving at me with a panicked expression on his pale face.

My eyebrows knitted together in confusion until I realised; I was the tribute.

"Nicandro?" Nobody had called me by my first name for years, for so long that I had forgotten what it sounded like. Hesitantly, I shuffled towards the stage and through the sea of people. I got a few second glances and I heard a few murmurs echo through the crowd.

"O' Malley...Where have I heard that name before?"

"Steath, last year..."

"His brother..."

"Poor family...haven't they been through enough?"

Trixie, unaware of the ripples of conversation moving through the crowd, slipped her delicate hand into another Reaping ball, another we had never seen before. I trembled slightly on stage next to the older girl, a bright smile on her face as she turned to me. I tried to smile back, but I think a grimace instead appeared on my face.

"Kelby Fuse, it's your lucky, lucky day!"

This time, no cries sounded, no tears of loss and pain were shed by the first ever extra tribute in District 5. Instead, a medium heighted girl with fiery red hair and dark green eyes came through the crowd and towards the stage with her head held high.

Her family's cries could be heard threw the square, as their daughter, sister, and mother, walked onto the dreaded wooden stage.

"Any volunteers?" Silence met Trixie's question, so she just nodded and announced, "District 5, I give you your tributes for the 28th Annual Hunger Games: Keira May, Nicandro and Keira! Thank you, and happy Hunger Games!"

Yes, thank you for reaping us for our deaths. Yes, happy dying, children. Happy Hunger Games, one and all.

District 6: Rosemary Angel

_One year. _The words kept echoing in my head, round and round, never stopping, never pausing for breath or effect. _One year. _For one year I had pretended nothing had changed, learned to accept I had no older sister, tried to keep on living normally. Until now. Now, all of those terrible memories came coming back.

_One year. _Had it been that long? Had it really been that long since my sister half drowned, half burnt to death?

I hadn't looked in the mirror for a few years now.

The thing was, people had always said I was a mini Nicole, just smaller and possible even quieter. That haunted me as well, until I noticed the streaks of red in my blonde hair. I cried for weeks, thinking only of the lava that appeared in my nightmares and daydreams.

_One year. _

"Mary?" Nettle whispered, and I only just realised her little form was standing beside me, staring at me with wide, bluish eyes. I blinked away tears that threatened to fall again, and brushed her light brown hair away from her forehead lightly. I planted a kiss there, and smiled sadly down.

"I'm fine, Nett. Let's get you to the Reaping," I said to her, leading her out of our shared little room to the kitchen where mother, father and Cayenne sat. They stood up as they saw us, my grief a mirror image on their faces.

None of us wanted to do anything but hold each other today, but today were the Reapings, and we couldn't afford to be absent. Not when the Peacekeepers were sure to be sniffing about and searching for any that try and escape their fate. That was their job, to keep everything in order, not keep the peace.

The square was always packed with people moving, going to various shops and science labs across the District. None of us ever got a break apart from the worst days of our lives; irony at its every best, I was sure.

_One year. _

Merlee Wolanska stood on stage, beaming out at our district, completely oblivious to the fact there were families already crying for their children and clutching them tightly as though it would help. I knew all too well that it would never help. _One year. _

"Well, hello again District 6! We're back with a vengeance, so enjoy the Games this year! With 36 tributes, we're sure to have an exciting Games!" Merlee called out to the crowd, her pure white, spiky hair pointed out at all directions and her sparkly black eyes dancing with enthusiasm. Her lavender skin stuck out in the crowd of normal looking people.

I looked out from the 13 year old section, but my eyes always went back to the stage where my sister had stood. _One year. _

"And our lucky lady is...Anya Rayne! Come on up Anya!" Merlee called out to the crowd, and a girl with shoulder length brown hair and light brown eyes approached the stage, younger children all crying behind her. She was quite short, only a bit taller than me, with tan skin.

"Welcome to the Games! And now, our male tribute," she slipped her hand again into another Reaping ball, plucking a thin paper slip from its clutches. "Wolf Spanes!"

Everyone all shook their heads as a small boy with dark brown hair emerged from the 12 year old section. It was always worst when someone young entered the Games. Poor Wolf, he couldn't even survive his very first reaping, probably let alone the bloodbath.

"Our final tribute this year is...Rosemary Angel!"

_One year. _It was de ja vu, watching myself walk up stage, trying to hold my head up high for my sisters, trying to stay strong for them. Is this what Nicole felt like when she ascended the steps as I was doing now?

_One year. _Two Angels sent to Heaven, or Hell, in only one year.

"Any volunteers? No? Well, District 6, I give you your tributes!" She brandished her hand out towards our little gathering. We were all just too young, but I knew all too well that you couldn't change the past, however much you tried.

District 7: Derek Tyras 

"Derek, we're going to be late. Get down here now!" I heard my mother cry, and reluctantly I shuffled down the stairs, fingering my thin tie as though it was about to strangle me to the death I might soon receive. But I couldn't think like that.

I just buttoned up my top button of my white collared shirt as I smiled at my parents before we marched out of the door.

I saw some friends from school moving around in a small group, and went over to them with a smile still planted on my face.

"Hey, Ty," they greeted me in turn, and I replied hello to them with a small wave. Nobody liked today, but sometimes you had to deal with it and move on. I had already survived 4 previous Reapings, and hopefully that wasn't going to change.

"Is it just me, or does everyone seem even more anxious than normal?" My friend Rory asked the group, his eyebrows furrowed and his small brown eyes slightly narrowed in though. I knew what he meant; it seemed as though the prospect of extra tributes had shaken everyone up.

"It's the twist; no one likes when even more children have to die," Mitchell said sadly, and we all knew why; Aidan Tellon had been whipped to death only yesterday because he took an apple from the orchard to feed his baby sister. Where was the justice in that?

We all hung our heads for a moment, because Aidan had been a great guy, full of love and life. Now he was gone, and his baby sister would probably be dead in only a few days.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the District 7 Reapings of the 28th Hunger Games! May the odds be _ever _in your favour!" Stovella Delliny called out to us, her bright red outfit standing out from the bleak brown stage and dreary District 7 reaping day. No changes were visible from last year apart from the bright red contacts she now wore.

She slipped her hand into the dreaded Reaping ball for girl tributes and pulled out a single strip of paper.

"May I present to you your first female tribute...Somber Thrax!" About six cries erupted from the large crowd as Somber's family realised that their daughter was going into the Reapings and maybe even possible death.

A girl with nearly black hair and hazel eyes common for people from the poor part of D7 came on stage with her tanned head raised as high as she dared. She had on a tight, thick strapped black dress that seemed a far too small for her and a reddish gold sash strapped around her head.

Again, the escort Stovella picked out on sheet of paper from thousands, condemning another innocent person to immediate death.

"Derek Tyras, you're going into the 28th Hunger Games arena!"

No. No, it couldn't be me. Didn't I say I'd survive this as I had the others? Didn't I promise that my parents and I would celebrate surviving another reaping? Didn't I promise for my name to not be reaped this year?

"Hello, Derek! And now for our next and final tribute...Lacey Kalex, the honour is yours!"

An average girl with long and straight brunette hair and the same hazel eyes as Somber started towards the stage. Her brown head was held high as a boy cried beside her, a boy so similar looking they could have been brother and sister, or even twins. They were both in the 16 year old section, and I had seen both of them at my school. I wondered if they were from the same family, and if their parents were near and shedding tears for their daughter also.

I saw no one but the boy and Lacey's friends, however, crying at all. No adults knew this poor girl, or they didn't care enough to be sad that she was going to either die or be haunted for the rest of her life.

"Any volunteers?" Stovella asked our district, but even though our friends and families loved us, there was no love great enough to die for.

"No? Well then, District 7, your tributes!" She motioned to us before clip clopping down the wooden stairs and towards the Justice building. We followed after her, and I fully realised that to survive, I would have to kill these two kind- looking girls. For some reason, I thought of Aidan, and I knew all too well that you couldn't change the past, however much you tried.

We were going into that arena, whether we liked it or not.

District 8: Schatten Tomar

"Come on, Shadow. Time's a wasting," Kaily called out to me as I cautiously brushed my long, black hair into order. My mirror itself was cracked and broken, and Kaily always said it was a symbol of me, and one day we'd get some tap to piece it back together forever. Then, the glass could never prick my fingers.

"Coming, Kay," I shouted back, carefully but hastily putting the hairbrush on my shelf, beside it was a torn and burnt photograph of her deceased parents. It was my shelf of memories, and the hairbrush had been one of the only things I had kept from the fire three years ago.

For some odd reason, it had seemed important to me then.

"Shadow, take this," my friend told me, pressing something hard and cold into my pale palm.

I gently opened up my fingers one by one to reveal a cool, pointed shard of crystal handing from a thin, silver chain. Half of the crystal was midnight black, the other clear and pure. I fingered it carefully, taking in every angle, every point of view of this little gem that held so much significance to my life that it took my short breath away.

The black represented me, broken and dark; the other was Kaily, bright and pure. I had never seen anything like it in my short, thirteen years that seemed so much longer.

"I was going to give it to you on your birthday, but just in case...Just in case one of us is chosen, I wanted to make sure you got it before I ever got the chance to say I'm sorry," Kaily told me, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks as well as mine.

"Sorry for what?" I asked her, smiling slightly at my friend who had kept me safe for years, and looked after me when no one else could, when no one else was left.

"For everything. No one should go through that, especially when you were so young. It isn't fair, Schat," Kaily said slowly, letting me take in every word she was saying, every small yet powerful emotion in her soft voice.

"We both all too well that you can't change the past, however hard you try, Kay. Maybe we should stop trying," I told her sadly, wiping tears from my eyes as I did so. She had seen me weak and broken before, but I didn't want to show vulnerability today, not today.

"I know, I know. Let's get going," Kaily replied, before breaking into a smile and leading me out of the door.

Apparently, Nathan, the escort for District 11 last year, had moved up places and now was sticking his hand into the Reaping ball as I hurried to the thirteen year old section. Hopefully, nobody recognised my face hidden in the shadows.

"Our girl tribute for District 8 is...Kendal Resista!" Nathan called out joyfully, scanning the crowd for movement.

Suddenly, a girl with strawberry blonde layered hair and green shining eyes wiped tears from them and headed towards the stage where Nathan, the mayor and all three mentors stood. Her blue green dress with a bubble skirt waved around her thin legs as she walked up the steps and in doing so, accepted her fate.

"And for our only male tribute we have...Charlie Haven!"

A boy emerged from the 13 year old section with floppy brown hair, and ripped a small girl's arms away from him. She cried out but an older man who I presumed to be their father held her half- heartedly back.

"For our first ever extra tribute in the Hunger Games, please welcome on stage Schatten Tomar!" Gasps echoed all through the immense crowd, and almost everyone turning to see my face, to see where I would appear from.

I locked fearful eyes with Kaily, who stared back at me with her chocolate eyes wide. But there was nothing that either of us could do to stop this; I walked up on stage to cries and whispers as they all saw a girl everyone had been so sure that they had seen die in the flames, now walking and watching, very much alive on the outside.

On the inside, however, I saw a charred and burnt as though I had never escaped. I had never escaped.

"But she's dead!" Someone cried out, but I just kept on walking.

"I saw her burn!" Another voice shouted fearfully but loudly, and was met with murmurs of agreement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please! Now, are there any volunteers?" Nathan said loudly over the din, and I saw Kaily move. I shook my head very subtly, begging her to stay where she was. Rightly, I was already supposed to be dead.

"Then I announce your tributes; Kendal Resista, Charlie Haven and Schatten Tomar!"

I was already dead inside.

* * *

What did you think?

As always, rate it from 1-10, and honest answers please! I want no "7, because my tribute wasn't featured" or "6, because all Reapings are the same". I'm just trying to make sure I fit everyone who wanted the Reapings as their spotlight moment in, and don't worry, there's only 1 more chapter left.

Thank you avid readers, reviewers and brick walls! You guys are absolutely amazing!

*~Joy~*


	4. The Reapings Part 3: Just not today

Who is left to face death...who is left to face loss and heartbreak and deceit...who will be a dreaded pawn on the chessboard of Panem...and who will make it out alive? Ladies and gentlemen, let the Games begin.

Main Characters: Brook Callins, Lucianna Griffin, Cordielia Wren Harlow, Azalea Rose Calloway and Amelia Airhate.

* * *

District 9: Brook Callins

"Hmm, hmm. Hmmhmm, hmm," I sang quietly to myself as I flicked through my wardrobe for something that was not frilly, girly or pink. Something _normal. _My brothers were convinced I needed to be more feminine, but why?

As far as I knew, feminine, quiet, pretty girls never won the Games unless they were bloodthirsty and brutal killers. I wasn't any of that, so I guess, if I had the _privilege _of being chosen. Yeah, right.

The Capitol was so wrong to think killing was an honour. They made me sick inside.

"Brook? Come on, we're leaving!" Calden called to me through the door, so I threw on the first thing I saw that wasn't pink. Instead, it was a simple white dress that I now despised. I groaned audibly, but had no time to change again.

Instead, I threw on a pair of nice, comfortable, expensive and stolen white trainers.

I rushed down stairs, kissing my father lightly on the cheek as he sat in his chair, his dark brooding eyes just staring out of the dirty window. My younger brother Griffin swung around the door and pounced on my waiting back. I chuckled lightly, and pushed him off again.

His smile made me remember that he was still whole, even though the rest of us were in pieces inside.

Calden followed after me, scowling as Griffin jumped off of my back.

"Griffin, get off Brook. Don't joke around today. Just not today," Calden scolded before walking out of the door and towards the District 9 square. I took Griffin by the hand despite his struggles and lead him out and after my older brother.

"Calden, wait!" I called after him, quickening my speed to keep up with his brisk pace. I caught his arm, and pulled him slowly back to face me.

I looked into his eyes, a mirror image of mine, and let my eyebrows knit together in annoyance. I said nothing, just glared into his eyes in what I hoped was a menacing look.

"Not today, Cal. Just not today," I said, mimicking his words. He nodded at me, and Griffin caught up with us just then, taking in the scene with his wide blue eyes.

I took his hand in mine again, and we walked even further into the square. Luckily, I was the only one entered this year; Calden had finally survived all of his dreaded Reapings, and poor Griffin had just one more year to wait. It was terrible, thinking that was little innocent brother was going to be chucked into the ball just as I was.

I just wanted my little, broken family to finally be safe.

"Hello, District 9. It's three lucky children's big, big day ahead! Now, we present our first tribute for the 28th Hunger Games..." the escort said. I didn't remember her strange Capitol name, but it was something like Angie or Angela. I could never remember names.

Her bright yellow hair stuck out at all angles and her strange contacts changed from blue to green depending on where you stood. I watched her hand dip into the Reaping ball like it was taking a dive in a sea of paper.

"Brook Callins!" Angie or Angela called out, and I looked frantically for my brothers. Who would tell my father? Who would break the news that the last female in our family was about to be sent into an arena to die? Would he even acknowledge that I was gone, trapped in our little black box like a puppet on a string? Maybe; maybe not.

With my head low to soak up the tears and anger welling up inside of me, I hastily climbed the steps onto the stage and towards the escort.

"Right, and now we have our only male tribute this year..." Again, her hand dived into the Reaping ball. "Tristan Workle!"

A tall boy emerged from the 17 year old section, with light brown hair and common hazel eyes. A terrible scar ran down the middle of his tanned face, making it seem as though it had been cut in two my an arrow or knife. I shied away slightly from Tristan, but thought better about it and held my ground.

"Now, for our final tribute to enter these amazing Hunger Games..." Amazing? Did she really just dare to say that?

Who was she really kidding, saying that these Games were an honour, were _amazing _to be in? No one, and definitely not me.

"Tatania Braeburn!" A very small girl, looking like her name shouldn't even be in the Reaping, called out in a shaky voice over the crowd as she walked towards the stage,

"It's Tanya." She had frizzy light brown hair and unremarkable, dull blue eyes that twitched nervously.

"Are there any volunteers to take these three spaces in the Hunger Games?" Angie or Angela asked the audience, all who shuffled nervously. Our friends and families loved us, but love and loyalty only go so far in Panem.

"Okay, then I give you your tributes: Brook Callins, Tristan Workle and Tatania, I mean Tanya, Braeburn! Thank you, and happy Hunger Games!"

Happy Hunger Games, yeah right. Either I was going to die, or I was going to have to kill the sweet, small girl called Tanya or the broken boy named Tristan. It was a cruel world we lived in, a world called Panem.

District 10: Lucianna "Lucy" Griffin

"Dum, dada, dum. Dadada, dum, dum. Dum, dada, dum," I hummed to myself as I flicked through my wardrobe in search of something to wear for this _fabulous _occasion. Frilly was too girly and young. Pink was just too...pink. No way was I wearing those tweed trousers though; did I want to look like a boy?

I settled on a very light blue dress and brown, wooden clogs my brother had carved. He was good with things like that, adding little details and surprises and making sure everything was perfect, even though it never really had to be.

"Lucy, Cordielia's at the door. She's waiting for you," my mother called loudly up the stairs, and I heard some polite chatter drifting under my door, and I heard Cori's light, fake laugh come through the wood also.

My mother was always one to want to impress, but never really made the mark. Cori was a good person though, she went along with it. I guess that was one of the reasons we had been best friends for all these long years.

"Coming, Cori! Wait up!" I strung a simple silver chain around my neck, not thinking how much it looked like a necklace of rope, a hangman's noose to me.

I shook my head, taking the stupid thoughts out of my head, and thundered down the stairs to meet my sister, or at least as close as you can get.

I embraced her into a full bear hug, and we swung each other around, giggling hysterically. My mother shook her blonde head so much like mine, and walked away from the room, muttering something that sounded awfully like "teenagers".

Cori laughed manically again, clutching her stomach and the wooden banister for support.

"I spent twenty whole minutes listening to her describe your new pig! How could you let me suffer like that? I thought I was your friend!" She cried, tears of laughter and not sorrow running down her tanned cheeks.

"Because I have to live with her, you get off easily," I replied with a roll of my eyes, which made me burst into yet another fit of giggles.

Cori cleared her tears with the back of her hand, and tried to compose herself and collect the dignity she had left at the door.

"Come on; let's get you to the Reapings. And no more comments, not today. Just not today," she told me, her voice gravely serious as we remembered last year. My eyes went around the world again, before I drew them to her with a half tired, half amused expression on my face.

"Yes, mum," and I laughed again, as she tutted and took my arm to lead me out of the door. I followed after her as she dragged me towards the 16 year old section with obvious effort.

She glared at me openly this time, and I replied, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know," with heavy sarcasm dripping off of my voice. I rolled my eyes a third time, just because I couldn't resist doing it again just to annoy Cori.

I looked around the crowd for faces I recognised, and saw Cordielia's brother, Cliff, standing at the back, not stuck like animals in a pen in the age sections. Her parents Christabelle and Atticus were also standing at the back, watching the crowd gather with wide eyes.

As a former victor, I knew that Atticus would want his children to enter the Games and follow in his footsteps, but only if they had to. I don't think he would throw them in the arena if he had a choice, not consciously anyway.

I saw our friend, Jay, waving at us from the 18 year old section, and I nudged Cori.

She waved over at him with me, because he was one of our very best friends, the final piece in our little unlikely trio, or gaggle of geese as our parents referred us to, not that I knew what they were talking about.

"Hello, District 10! I'm Melanie Stone, back for another year! Hopefully, these Games will be just as exciting as before, maybe even with double the amount of drama! Good luck and here is our first tribute!"

She dipped her perfectly manicured hand into the Reaping ball for the first time in a year. Her orange artificial eyes scanned the crowd, as she smiled and continued to send another innocent tribute to death. Like animals sent to the slaughter house.

"Mare Warrens!"

A tall, slim girl with short and light brown hair and bright blue eyes appeared from the swarm of innocents, or victims. She started to cry, big, fat tears tumbling down her cheeks like there were waterworks that were broken and leaking.

She reached the stage just as the little paper slip was being unfolded by Melanie's expert hands.

"Ashton Samuels, come on up into the spotlight!"

I knew the boy with the charming white smile and shining emerald eyes vaguely from school. His thick dark hair slightly covered his eyes as they gleamed slightly with tears as he came up on stage and stood next to Mare.

"And for our first ever extra tribute...we have Lucianna Griffin!" I felt my best friend freeze beside me, but I brushed my curly blonde hair out of my chocolate eyes and approached the wooden stage, trying to keep my head held high.

"Now, do we have any volunteers?" Melanie asked, and I held my breath for as long as I dared. Somehow, I knew what was coming.

Maybe it because if our places were reversed, I would have done exactly the same.

"I volunteer for Lucy Griffin!" Cori shouted out, her black wavy hair flying behind her as she ran towards the stage. I tried to protest, but she pushed past me to stand in front of Melanie. The escort coughed, and slightly pushed me towards the stage steps.

"Well then, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mare Warrens, Ashton Samuels and..." she looked at Cori as she said her name. "And Cori Wren Harlow!" The crowd clapped, and I felt the tears continue to fall as I looked at my life-time long friend. My deep brown eyes bored into her bright blue, silently pleading with her to take it back, to come back down those steps and into safety.

But really I just wanted to ask was, "Why?"

District 11: Azalea Rose Calloway

"La, lalala. Lala, la, lala. Lalalaa," I sung to myself as I opened up my wardrobe to find a bleak set of clothes, just sets of plain shirts, skirts and trousers. Only one item looked fit enough to wear to the reaping, but its bright orange colour made me resemble an orange in more ways than one.

"Lea? Can I come in?" My mother asked through the door, accompanied with a light knock with the back of her knuckles. I grunted in reply, nodding my head as I forgot she couldn't see me. I closed the wardrobe with a light bang, and turned to the door.

"Yes, come in!" I shouted, blushing slightly.

My mother appeared, smiling shyly at me. It was scary sometimes how similar we were sometimes; complete with her light brown hair, small shape and height, and pale green eyes, I was like her smaller but otherwise identical doll. We were both fragile, inside and outside, but light-hearted and shy. We were twins that were born a generation apart, and I loved her more than anything in the world.

She was holding something behind her back, and I twisted my head around to see it. I caught a flash of yellow but nothing more. I gave my mother a strange look as I tilted my head in thought as to what she was hiding from me.

"I thought you wouldn't like the orange, so I decided to let you have my old Reaping dress. It's not in the best condition and is more than twenty years old, but I thought you might still prefer it..." she faded away, and showed me the dress she had been keeping hidden. It was a beautiful petal yellow, light and breezy like a summer's day. It would hang just below my knees, and a halter neck would secure it to my small frame.

"It's perfect!" I declared, kissing my mother gently on the cheek before she walked out, closing the door behind her.

I pulled on the dress and admired myself in the mirror. It suited me perfectly, only confirming my suspicions of my mother and I being twins, or clones at least.

"We need to go!" I heard my father shout through the door, his voice gruffer and louder than my mother's, but full of the same warmth and compassion I knew from my childhood.

My two sisters paraded around the house, singing badly at the top of their small voices and innocent, naive natures. I was glad that they didn't remember the one year when this day was the worst of our lives. They were too small to remember our brother dying in the Hunger Games that year.

"Welcome, welcome, one and all, to the Reaping of the 28th Hunger Games!" Jellica Biddlecome called in a false, cheery voice. She had done District 3 last year, but had been moved down to District 11 as Nathan Coley moved up.

"Now, which lucky tribute will be our first? Let's find out!"

She reached into the fishbowl full of names as I shuffled nervously on my feet. I only had 2 slips in, because my parents wouldn't let me take any tessaree, but there was still a chance. The odds were still never in my favour.

Jellica gripped the piece of paper, but it flew away in the wind, caught on an invisible breeze.

The crowd groaned as the escort blushed and pulled out a second name, not even trying to retrieve the other slip, the other name, the other name. Today of all days the odds had been swayed. Not today, please, just not today. Maybe I still had hope that the first slip of paper had blown away with my name on it; that the wind had saved _me. _Not sentenced me to death.

"May I please give you...Azalea Calloway!" I gasped, frozen with shock. Me? No, I was thirteen; I had my life left to live!

I wanted to leave school and get a job, get married and have children, sit on a porch with a baby in my lap, grow grey- haired and old with my wrinkly and forgetful husband at my side.

I want to _live, _not die in an arena with 34 other tributes suffering the same fate as I. I didn't want to follow in my brother's footsteps. But no, the odds were not in my favour. It had taken only a light wind to blow away my chance of surviving this Reaping, of just surviving.

"Come on Azalea, the clock is ticking! And for our male tribute we have...Ruse Kennedy!"

A boy with dark brown hair and hazel eyes appeared, and he was about three years older than me. He didn't cry, just approached the stage with hesitating, accepting his fate as quickly as it had come. But maybe it was just to hide the real feelings underneath. I couldn't read minds, therefore I didn't know whether he had realised his destiny in the Games so easily, or not.

"And for our final tribute we have..." Jellica's hand slipped for the third and final time into the Reaping ball, pulling out just one single slip. I looked quietly and slyly over her shoulder and the small, printed name simply read,

"Annaliese Konra!"

A medium heighted girl with big, emerald shining eyes and golden wavy hair falling just to her slender shoudlers approached the escort. She didn't cry, just a quick look behind her at a small, teary eyed girl almost identical to her, like my mother and I.

"Call me Anna," she told Jellica bravely, lifting up her head as the small girl's cries echoed in all of our ears, like a warning bell telling us that the hourglass was tipping, the sand very close to running out.

The clocks were silently ticking.

The Capitol: Amelia Airhate

Sequin Allure, Rolf Cadomay, Ivory Noire. Trista Angel, Floyd Barabe, Isabella Rose. Tara Green Flowers, Michael Rubins, Mimi Madeline Lombardi. Mylene Frostblight, Perkele Fin, Morganna Renn. Kiera May Winters, Nicandro O'Malley, and Kelby Fuse. Anya Rayne, Wolf Spanes, Rosemary Angel.

Somber Thrax, Derek Tyras, Lacey Kalex. Kendal Resista, Charlie Haven, Schatten Tomar. Brook Callins, Tristan Workle, Tatiana Braeburn. Mare Warrens, Ashton Samuels, Cori Wren Harlow. Azalea Calloway, Ruse Kennedy, Annaliese Konra. Marta Wren Harris, Samuel Jacobs, Gisli Raylor.

And what do these 36 names have in common, you ask? They are the tributes in the 28th Hunger Games. 35 of these names will be put on graves. Only 1 will be put in the history books.

"Wow, quite a few characters this year!" I exclaimed to my best friend Marylin, who smiled at my coyly.

She winked slightly, and said, "I know who I'm sponsoring; the winner."

I laughed, because that was my line last year and look where it got me! My tribute actually won! I knew that Mary would want to get one up on me now, so I had to pick my tribute carefully. I felt like sponsoring a girl, since there were so many to choose from this year, not that Mary liked that idea.

"I want more boys to look at," she moaned, and I burst into a fit of giggles at her depressed face. I watched the black television screen, thinking.

"Don't worry. The chariot rides are next, and I'm sure that some outfits will be fit for your standards," I told her reassuringly. The symbol of Panem was shown, and our anthem played through the surround- sound speakers.

"And I'm sure some will be too horrific to miss," Mary said, winking again.

Our laughter echoed around the room, and I clutched my stomach as I vibrated with the motion. Maybe these Games were truly going to be the best yet.

* * *

The last PoV was supposed to be short, just to give you a little taster of Amelia for those of you who haven't read the 27th Hunger Games. For those of you who have, and have followed our journey through those Games, just to see a familiar Capitol face.

But did you like it? The Reapings are over, and as always, tell me what you thought! Favourite character, favourite District, favourite sentence, I'll take anything!

Plus, please review! I got over 250 reviews for the last Games, and we want to beat that! And you get extra sponsor points so it's a win/win situation! Spread the love and click that little button below! You know you want to...thank you!

*~Joy~*


	5. The Chariot Rides Part 1: Make or break

The Chariot Rides...shown to the whole of Panem...who will triumph in beauty...who will fall at the hands of their stylists...who will make an impression...who will give it their all...and get nothing in return? Ladies and gentlemen, let the Chariot Rides begin.

Main Characters: Ivory Noire, Tara Green Flowers, Mylene Frostblight, Wolf Spanes.

* * *

District 1: Ivory Noire

"I'm not too sure what to do with her yet..." Yoncy mused, walking around me in a circle, arms folded, head tilted. I watched her with slightly narrowed eyes as she inspected my naked body with a curious eye. I wanted to shy away, but that wasn't in my nature.

My eyes never faltered away from hers as she paced around me some more, touching my hair every now and again, running her fingers along my slender, bare shoulder.

"Maybe some eye-shadow, some lipgloss and a touch of blusher for make-up?" Yoncy's daughter asked, who was extremely small and pixie-like. Her mother grunted, but continued to consider me. Carter came over and took a lock of my midnight black hair between his fingers.

"It's quite long...maybe a bob, or a pixie hairstyle would suit her more, but maybe curled or styled..." Carter, the Capitol idiot in charge of my hair, commented before dropping my hair and stepping backwards. Yoncy remained silent, and the rest of my preppy prep team studied me too.

"Hello? I'm still here, you know?" I told them, raising my dark eyebrows and waving my hands. The head stylist nodded and said to Ferris,

"Get her a bathrobe, and then see what you can do." See what you can do? What the hell did that mean? Then I saw the tweezers, and screamed my head off.

After what seemed like hours of torture and waxing, Yoncy stepped back to look at me. She tilted her head to one side, then the other. A small smile crept across her face, making it light up and look more beautiful than I had first thought. She held up a mirror, and a smile also appeared on my beautiful face.

My dark hair was curled expertly and hung just above my shoulders, so obviously Carter had decided against the barbaric bob. My eye shadow was light and sparkly, highlighting my dark blue eyes more than normal. A touch of blusher had been applied to my light cheeks, giving me a sense of beauty and innocence. Evangeline had discarded the lipgloss idea, leaving my full lips natural and a dusky pink.

The thing that really caught my eye, though, was my shimmering dress.

I knew immediately that it had been designed to represent a diamond, coming from District 1, and almost glowed in the ray of sunlight shining down from the window. It showed off a lot of flesh, not that I minded. The sponsors would feel disappointed if they barely saw any of me, and I could afford to have my dress cut shorter than most would even dare to dream about.

"What do you think?" Yoncy whispered from beside me, and my smile grew to a full sized beam. I looked at the rest of my idiot prep team, down at my dress, and winked slightly. With a flick of my hair, I told her proudly,

"I think it's my time to shine."

As I walked out to my chariot and fellow district partners I was full of confidence, sure I was going to steal my show back from my rival or ally, Sequin Allure. We were both careers, both were going to join the career pack, but that didn't mean I didn't want to kill her. If I wanted to win, I would have to kill in cold blood, and that hag deserved to feel my arrow piece her ice cold heart more than any of the other tributes. If I wanted to win, I also needed to look like a winner.

"Ivory," Sequin said, taking me in. She was dressed in shimmering white sundress, littered with rubies and red glitter. A clip secured her silvery blonde hair back off of her face, showing her red eye shadow, bright red lipstick worthy of the Capitol and her deep blusher.

"Sequin," I told her, nodding in her direction. I walked past and studied our chariot. It was jet black with glitter, jewels and little mirrors decorating the surface, reflecting the sunlight and causing it to bounce in all directions. Rolf had on a dark green suit with emeralds stuck to the surface and a crisp silver shirt. We looked like light, white angels who had fallen from Heaven and into the mines of District 1, appearing flawless as angels would be. Yes, we were winners, inside and out. Unfortunately, only one us would return home; I would make sure that that person was me.

District 3: Tara Green Flowers

"Tara, Tara, Tara. What are we going to do with you? It looks like you haven't brushed your hair in weeks!" Jerri called to me, brushing her hand through my blonde hair. I scowled up at her with narrowed green eyes and snapped,

"Jerri, Jerri, Jerri. I don't care, and you're one to talk; I mean, red? So last year." I smiled, but I was smouldering beneath my cool, collected mask. She couldn't tell me what to do, or what she considered wrong. I knew what I was doing, unlike her. My head stylist looked offended, and huffed as she turned around to supposedly grab a hairbrush to kill my blonde locks with.

Luwaiza, the person in my prep team in charge of my make-up, tapped me on the shoulder lightly. I whipped around to face her, pulling my bathrobe tighter around my body.

"I wouldn't upset her if I were you. She's the one that could make or break you today," Luwaiza told me, smiling slightly and shyly. My scowl deepened as I watched the girl only a few years older than me with dark green tattoos and yellow eyebrows try to give me advice.

"Don't tell me what to do! I'm the one that can make me a star, with or without her-" I jabbed my thumb in Jerri's direction. "-help." I turned away, straightening my stiff back; I had sat there for over two hours now and it was beginning to take its toll. I crossed my arms roughly, looking into the mirror and practising my smile.

"It's not a magic mirror; I think you're beyond help," a voice smarmily said from behind me, and Jerrad, Jerri's besotted husband, stood behind me.

I growled deeply at him, but he just laughed, his tone lacking any humour whatsoever.

"I think you're beyond mental. Crossed the line, over the top, _overreacting." _I replied, tilting my head slightly to the side to study the tall man in front of me. I guessed he was cute, but the tattoos, weird hair and an attitude he seriously needed to work on, he was also beyond desirable, at least for me. He huffed and, like his wife, strutted off somewhere to probably grab the fiercest, most deadly pair of tweezers he could find.

I sighed, and turned back to the mirror to find Luwaiza tutting at me.

"What?" I snapped at her again, brandishing my hands to the sides. She shook her head, and walked over to a tray of make-up sitting on a small bench. She reached down and began to apply a light pink shadow to my eyelids.

"You need to relax, just think about your overall goal. I'm pretty sure it isn't to piss off two of your stylists," Luwaiza told me, whilst she continued to brush above my eyes. I sighed again and it took all of my will-power not to look down at my bare feet.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I replied, but I knew my goal. My goal was to survive, to win. I saw Jerri come through the door holding what looked like a body bag, but I swept that thought from my head as quickly as possible. It was my outfit, or as Luwaiza said, the thing that could make or break me. I just hoped I didn't look like a Christmas tree like last year. Jerrad followed after the head stylist holding, like I suspected, a pair of evil looking tweezers. I held my breath, and let out an ear-splitting scream as he pulled the tweezer backwards, taking my hair with it.

When they had finally finished tearing every single hair from my body, I got to see my outfit for the first time.

_Make or break. _The words span around in my head as I pulled down the zip carefully, secretly dreading what would be inside.

It was a hot pink mini- skirt, with silver lights decorating the fabric. The shirt had spaghetti straps with more lights and glitter covering it. My hair was wavy and out of its usual ponytail, and it fell lightly to the top of my back. I had to admit...it was better than last year's.

"Let's get you in that chariot," Luwaiza said from beside me, and I smiled genuinely at her for the first time. I saw my fellow district partners standing beside a chariot complete with shining lights and wires, reminding me of home sweet home back in District 3.

Mimi's outfit was identical to mine apart from her skirt was an aqua colour, matching her eyes perfectly. Michael had on red trousers and the same shirt we all had on. It was like we were strange, identical triplets all dressed the same.

"Are we ready to go?" Michael asked us two girls, and we all boarded our chariot.

I looked at the two people I would probably have to kill, but the thought of my father's face with a crown on his head flashed into my mind. I was a winner through and through. These Games would make me, like they made him.

District 4: Mylene Frostblight

"Hmmm...what to do, what to do...Should we plait her hair, or keep it down? Make-up or not make-up? Decisions, decisions..." My head stylist, Kaestril Kallisky, wondered aloud to himself as I fidgeted nervously on my chair, with only a light bathrobe to cover me. He circled around me, thinking. His green hair was styled into spikes and his tanned skin was littered with various tattoos and artwork. I thought I saw a picture of President Snow on his shoulder, but I looked again and it had disappeared.

Strange; I was already seeing the face of my murderer before the Games had even begun.

"Lets' just start on the body," Michaela Lintel declared, pulling a wax strip from behind her back. I glared at it in fear, and grunted as she pulled. The skin burned from where it had been stuck on, and tears pricked in my eyes from the pain.

_Pain is gain,_ my mother would say. Yeah, right.

After the torture was officially over, Kataran Jinx, my stylist in charge of makeup, swivelled my chair around to face her. Her brush strokes were delicate and light and she made sure that every little detail was absolutely perfect. Kataran did the whole process in silence, concentrating purely on making me the best I could be, I hoped.

"Right, let's see what we have here," she announced, propping a mirror on her lap and tilting it backwards slightly. I looked down at my reflection, and smiled slightly. Matthew Lintel, Michaela's twin brother, had worked absolute wonders with my hair, twisting it into a tight bun on my head. A few light brown strands hang down, framing my face. Golden glitter had been sprinkled on it all, making it shimmer and shine as I moved. My makeup was simple, with a brown eye shadow and creamy lipgloss.

The dress itself was amazing. It was two-toned, so Kaestril told me, and changed from blue to green when I walked. A thick blue belt held the silky fabric together, and it fell all the way to my feet where golden sandals covered my feet.

I looked like a goddess of the sea in my outfit, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. It was perfect for me.

"What do you think?" Michaela and Matthew said together, their voices ringing through the silence. I stuttered for a while, lost for words for one of the first times in my 16 years. I looked into their identical purple eyes and replied,

"It's amazing." They were the only words I could manage as my prep team all rejoiced and cheered before leading me out of my dressing room. I followed them to my chariot, also fit for a true goddess. It had dolphins, crabs, fish and every time of sea creature you could imagine on the side, dancing on the waves painted around them.

I saw Morganna already standing in her chariot, dressed in an outfit similar to mine. It wasn't two-toned though, just a snake green. It didn't resemble the water at all, but maybe she got on the wrong side of her stylists. Perkele had baggy trousers that were blue, and no top whatsoever. He smiled fully at me as I climbed on, then waved to the crowd before our chariot had even started to move.

I heard people cheering my name, but squashed between the Wicked Witch of the West and "Ladies' Man", life didn't seem all that good. Especially when I saw Storm standing beside, waving us off with a heart-breaking expression on his face.

No, the Games had already begun to haunt me before they had even started.

District 6: Wolf Spanes

"Just give up, Micah. There's nothing you can do," His friend, Leon Laak, told my head stylist as he stared at me, holding a hairbrush in one hand and a tweezer in the other. We locked eyes, our gaze never wavering. I wasn't letting him anywhere near me with those things, not in a million years.

Without looking away from me Micah cried, "We have to try!"

Lenka Scotia shook her orange, flaming head sadly, and carefully took the tweezers and hairbrush from his hands and laid them on the wooden table beside her. She took Micah's hand and made him look at her, unknowingly crowning me victor of our staring contest.

"I give up!" Micah yelled, tears streaming from his eyes as he collapsed on his chair, his head in his hands. I smiled triumphantly, and let Lenka put on my chariot outfit on and nothing more. I wasn't suffering through the hair removal process just for a stupid chariot ride. I refused, which is want lead to my head stylist having a mental breakdown.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't think it's worth it," I told him, patting him on the shoulder before looking down at my outfit.

I wore scientific goggles to shield my eyes and a long lab coat. I had black trousers on and a white shirt saying, 'Do not taste chemicals,' with a warning sign on the back. It was alright, but it probably wouldn't get me many sponsors.

My head stylist looked up at me and sighed. Fully recovered from his mental breakdown, I hoped, he led me to the chariots.

We were a young district this year, with Rosemary being 13, Anya a year older and the fact that I was only twelve. I saw my district partners talking a bit further along, laughing and smiling every so often. I reached where they were standing, and greeted them.

"Hey, Anya; Rosemary." They smiled back at me, and I took in their outfits. Anya's was similar to mine, with a shorter white lab coat and instead of 'Do not taste chemicals' she had 'Report any breakages immediately.' I wondered if this was some kind of sick joke from the Gamemakers, or if our stylists were trying to tell us something. I figured that Rosemary's stylists had fallen out with the others because her outfit was completely different. Her dress had two layers: the bottom one was a green colour and the top was completely clear and looked a bit like fabric glass. She had no shoes on, and the dress was completely straight.

"Hi, Wolf. Are you ready?" Anya asked me, but I couldn't help but stare at Rosemary's dress.

"What are you supposed to be?" I asked, trying not to make my tone too offensive, just curious. The girl looked like she was about to cry as she looked down at herself and back up to me. She sniffed lightly and said in a thick, quiet voice,

"I think I'm supposed to be a test tube."

* * *

What do you think? Poor Rose, dressed as a test tube. You can't get much worse than that. Okay, first question: Who said, "I feel like a stupid Christmas tree," in the 27th Hunger Games? All of the questions will be quotes from those Games, so watch out! 10 sponsor points are up for grabs!

Favourite tribute, favourite District, favourite outfit, favourite stylist? Tell me! Express your feelings and love and gratitude with kind reviews!

Thank you i-luv-to-write-law-and-order for Ivory's prep team, Yoncy, Carter, Ferris and Evangeline. And thank you to the amazing eac12879 for Kaestril, Michaela, Kataran, Micah, Leon and Lenka, and at such short notice, you're a life saver!

*~Joy~*


	6. The Chariot Rides Part 2: No choice

Who is left to face the music...face the crowd of Capitol sponsors...all willing to give you their money...to help you stay alive...who will triumph...who will disgrace? Ladies and gentlemen, let the Games begin. These are, the Chariot Rides.

Main Characters: Charlie Haven, Tristan Workle, Tatiana "Tanya" Braeburn, Ruse Kennedy.

* * *

District 8: Charlie Haven

"Hmm...hmm..." Mailey murmured, considering the chariot outfit I was wearing. She tilted her head to one side, and to the other. She stared at me for a while, just contemplating. Suddenly she clapped her red nailed hands together and exclaimed excitedly, "I know what's missing! We need more sequins!"

I groaned audibly, but Melodesy waved me off and trotted over to a pot of sequins them to her triplet. Meanwhile, Marky, the third and final sibling in this weird, Capitol trio, was snipping away at my hair with what seemed like no pattern or consistency at all. I subconsciously touched my chest as the sequins drew closer. The triplets all watched me curiously, probably testing to see where even more glitter and sparkly things were needed.

I didn't think they realised I was a boy at all.

"On the left arm...no, your other left...that's it! Right, to the left leg...I said left!" I moaned as I saw more and more glue and glitter covering my outfit, making me look like a five year old's idea of a masterpiece.

Mailey stood back to look at me, with Melodesy mimicking her posture down to the last manicured nail tapping on their chins.

"Perfect! You can never have too much glitter," Melodesy commented, nodding bright yellow her head as she watched me turn like I was a victim on a catwalk show in the Capitol. I actually started to sob quietly when I saw exactly what I looked like in a full length mirror.

My hair was childish, and cut unevenly. I was right about there being no consistency to Marky's hairstyle, as my bangs hung down my face, with one lock of brown hair a lot shorter than the others. My feet were bare, and thankfully I had no makeup applied to my palish skin. I silently thanked my less than able prep team for leaving out that little detail.

"Oops! Mailey, you forgot the make-up!" Marky cried to his sister, waving his hands awkwardly in the air to attract her attention. She gasped also, and trotted over to where I saw nothing but bright colours and sparkles.

I groaned for the third time, staring as the dreaded box was brought ever closer to my face. I scrunched my eyes shut, not wanting to see the torture take place or the dreaded aftermath after my capturers were finally finished with me.

"Perfect! I love the way it looks like a patch work piece, with the different colours really attract the eyes."

Attract the eyes? That was the last thing I wanted to do. But then again, with this amount of glitter, I didn't have a hope in this hell.

I was dressed in multi-coloured square pieces of different fabric, all sewn together and made into the rough shapes of a shirt, trousers and jacket. And my stylists had decided to also dress in my lots of glitter, but how that represented my district, I didn't know.

"Let's go, Clemence!" Mailey called to me excitedly as I trudged after her, wondering how she got Clemence from Charlie, whilst being disturbed that my own stylist didn't know my name. I shook my head, and reached the chariots the other districts were amazing, well thought out and glorious.

I, however, looked like a patchwork blanket with a ton of glitter accidently knocked onto it.

"Right, Callum, are you ready?" Marky asked me, smiling brightly as I fiddled with my floppy hair.

I saw Kendal and Schatten standing by a surprisingly nice chariot. It had a needle and thread painted on one side, and on the other were various patterns. It reminded me of home, being back in the shop with my thread.

Being a tailor was one of the few things I was good at, but how would that help me in the Games? If the arena was a giant thimble...no, not even then.

"Go get them, Conner!" Melodesy shouted, patting me on the back as I blushed bright red. Luckily, I thought my red blusher covered my shyness. I walked over to the girls, looking at my bare feet. They smiled at me as we boarded the chariot, and Schatten lifted my hand and shook it as we began to move. I thanked her silently with my eyes, and nervously waved to the Capitol and the rest of Panem.

I cringed as an old lady wolf whistled at our trio. If the Games were worse than this, I never had a chance.

District 9: Tristan Workle

The thing was, I didn't have the heart to tell my stylists that I didn't appreciate being dressed as a...chunk of cheese.

JoJo Noire, my head stylist, just wondered around the room, occasionally picking up some hair product or make-up product and handing it to a member of my prep team. Salt Cuchack was an elderly woman, and in charge of styling and cutting and doing whatever else to my hair. Like her name suggested, had snow white hair and pure white skin, giving her a particularly creepy look.

Pepper Nixsson had stormy grey hair and identical coloured skin. He was in charge of applying whatever horrors to my face, and right now he was brushing something onto my neck for whatever reason.

"Get the lipstick. No; the lighter shade. Perfect," JoJo muttered to Pepper, never straying his eyes from the tables and shelves packed full of various products to supposedly make me look great, and achieving an epic fail.

"There we go. I think the lighter shades really compliment your skin tone, and Salt, maybe we can dye your hair to match your outfit. Then we would get the full effect of your district, and if we're lucky, you'll even match your fellow district partners! How exciting! I'll bet you'll look amazing in your chariot...ooohhh and maybe that will be decorated too. I didn't think they really captured you as a food district for the chariot last year, so hopefully they'll put more thought into it now," Pepper chatted to me as I stood up and fully took in my horrid outfit that would apparently look amazing in my chariot; I highly doubted that would ever happen in a million years.

"Let's get you to your chariot," JoJo whispered in my ear, and I gratefully followed him out the door and towards the area where the chariot rides would finally take place.

Outside, I could see all of the holes in my yellow cheese outfit. I could barely walk, or a more fitting word would be waddle.

I couldn't see the girls, but I figured they'd easily be able to see me. You could probably see me on a dark night outside with no lights on just as easily as you would in the day; I mean, I was a massive, yellow chunk of cheese.

I reached our district chariot, which also wasn't hard to spot. It was a giant red and green apple, with wheels. I sighed, wondering how any of us could be more humiliated.

Then I heard a whimper come from the other side of the apple chariot, and saw a rather large figure crouching down beside it. Tanya Braeburn from my district was dressed as a thin sweet corn tin. Tears were running down her face as she hid behind the apple covering her, and sobbed slightly as she looked up at me.

She looked even younger than she had at the Reapings, even dressed as a tin.

"Are you okay?" I asked, bending down slowly like I would to a wounded animal. She whimpered again, and shuffled away, the metal of her outfit screeching across the concrete ground. I held out my hand to let her up, but she just stared at it. I shook my fingers slightly, and reached closer.

Eventually she grabbed it gratefully and hauled herself up off of the ground. She stumbled slightly, and I almost joined her in her tears when I saw how big the tin was compared to her, how her whole body was almost swallowed up by the metal.

She was also a lot smaller than I had first thought, with me towering over her like a giant of some kind.

"The metal keeps scratching my shoulders," she whispered, and slowly turned so that I could see what she was talking about. There were scrapes across her body from the sharp, pointy edge of her costume. Blood poured from the wound and down her slender pale arms.

I gasped slightly as she moved, the metal once again cutting across her body.

"You have to tell someone! You can't go through the chariot rides with cuts like that!" I cried, motioning to her stylists standing, huddled in a group, on the other side of the chariot area. She shook her head slightly, and the tears stopped falling as she looked out at the other tributes.

"Pain is gain remember? I have no choice, none of us do," Tanya whispered to me, before climbing painfully into our apple chariot.

Her words were circling in my head over and over again, echoing and drowning out most of my other thoughts. None of us had any choices any more; we were just pawns in the Games, at their mercy and control.

And the Capitol didn't give mercy.

I saw a figure getting closer to us, running as fast as she could. Brook Callins stopped in front of us, out of breath. She clutched her side, and I took in her costume. Her dress was made of spaghetti, just completely made of the thin strands. It clattered around her legs as she moved, and her eyes widened as she saw us, the cheese and the sweet corn tin.

"You're dressed as...cheese...and a tin?" She asked, still breathing heavily. Then she noticed the cuts on Tanya's shoulders and arms, and reaching out to the air in front of her, as though Brook were about to touch the bloody marks.

"Are you okay?"

She climbed in beside the small girl. I followed suit, closing the small door beside me to trap us in. The apple began to move before Tanya could reply, and we were all silent as we crept forward slightly, and I gripped the side of the chariot and Brook's hand too tightly. The Games had begun.

District 9: Tatania "Tanya" Braeburn

I ran as quickly as I could out of the door and away from the monsters. That was what I called them, for that was what they talked like, looked like and acted like. Pure, horrible monsters.

I heard their strange voices call out to me, but they were in the distance now. Tears burned in my eyes and my shoulders felt as though they were on fire. The harsh metal scraped across my skin like a blunt axe, tearing away at my flesh so much that it hurt to even move anymore. But I kept on running for my life, kept on running away from the monsters most people called my stylists and prep team.

No, they were monsters, just like the rest of them.

I saw our chariot straight away, a bright red and green apple amongst sparkles and shiny things from the other districts. I carried on running until I reached it, and crouched down one side, hidden from view.

I breathed heavily, and closed my eyes to try and calmly numb the pain on my shoulders. Tears carried to fall from my face and down my pale cheeks, fat, hot tears that rolled down the sides of my face. I focused on watching the other tributes in their weird and wonderful chariot ride outfits.

That's when I saw a block of cheese heading straight for me, or more specifically, my chariot.

I held my breath, trying to make myself invisible as I had for thirteen years. But the pain overwhelmed all will to stay hidden and I let out a small whimper of sadness as I felt the blood trickle down my shoulder again as I breathed.

"Are you okay?" A voice said from above me, and I whipped my head up to stare at him, my eyes wide. Nobody had asked me that before, and it felt strange hearing the words in my ears. Somehow, the alien words I had heard so many other people say wouldn't roll of my tongue, trapped like me.

I wanted to say I was fine, but I wasn't, and I had never been a liar. After I was thinking I realised his hand was held out for me to take, and I did, gratefully. I stumbled slightly as I got to my feet shakily, and yet I still didn't look at him, into his big doe like eyes.

Finally, I just looked down at my bare feet and struggled to let the words form in my mouth.

"The metal keeps scratching my shoulders," I whispered, not meeting Tristan's eyes. I turned slowly as his eyes bugged, taking in my scraps and the blood slowly dripping from my wounds. I shook slightly as the tears ceased to stop.

"You have to tell someone! You can't go through the chariot rides with cuts like that!" My district partner cried, looking down at me in shock. I wiped away my steady tears, and looked up at the 17 year old hovering over me.

"Pain is gain, remember? I have no choice, none of us do," I told him, looking out at the 34 other tributes. I shook my head, thinking how all of them, if not one, would be dead soon, maybe in a few days.

It was sad really, but looking at some of the careers, maybe, just maybe, they deserved their fate a bit.

I saw our other district partner Brook running towards us, her spaghetti dress swirling around her. She panted as she reached us, gripping her sides. She looked at both of us, and I only then realised that Tristan was indeed dressed wholly in cheese and yellow, not just his outfit.

He had yellow tights and yellow shoes and a yellow top and a yellow face and yellow makeup and even yellow nail polish.

"You're dressed as...cheese...and a tin?" She smiled, still staring at us. Then she reached out to me, her smile fading just seconds later. She climbed in with me, her hand slightly grazing over the marks on my bare shoulders carefully.

"Are you okay?" Brook asked, but the apple chariot had already begun to move.

Again, it was that question asked twice in one day, by people I would have to kill to survive. In my whole life, I had never been asked that question by my own district, my own family.

Life truly hated me, but I couldn't choose what life I had. We were given our lives, and then we would be expected to be grateful. Then we would be expected to let it all go as easily as we had been born, all for one other person to keep theirs.

No, the Capitol chose our lives, and when to end them.

I clutched Brook's hand as we started to move even quicker down the track and were met my cheering crowds and Capitol residents all waiting to see us kill, and be killed. But what people had to understand was that we had no choice.

As I looked down at my bloody shoulders and cuts, I fully realised that none of us had a choice anymore.

District 11: Ruse Kennedy 

"Are you ready yet, Ruse?" My district partner Annaliese asked from beside me, smiling slightly as she touched our chariot. It was a beautiful leaf green, covered in leaves and vines, all reminding me of the home sweet home that I remembered.

"Ready when you are," I joked, winking slightly at her. She rolled her emerald eyes and giggled slightly in return, facing me now.

Her golden hair had been tied up in a spiral on her head, but strands hung down to frame her face. Her dress was gold with vines and leaves covering it. It fell just to her knees and flared out when she moved. She looked like a goddess, not that I'd ever tell her that.

Azalea stood on Anna's left, small and shy next to the bold and kind 16 year old.

"Let the parade begin," she said, rolling her eyes again, causing me to laugh as we began to move. Azalea's outfit was almost identical to Anna's, but hers was green. My chariot costume was similar also, with trousers and shirt, all brown. We all watched, and I think that, as a district, we worked quite well.

"Are you nervous?" Anna asked me, glancing my way for a moment, then looking out as the District 8 chariot started to move slowly towards the track, where the parade of the tributes would begin. I didn't need to think about my answer as I looked at her.

"Course not, it's a free ride," I replied, winking. She rolled her eyes again, and we almost seemed to have a little routine as we winked and rolled and spoke and joked.

District 10 left their station, and I straightened my shirt, looking ahead. We began to move also, our chariot rolling forward.

I grumpily tried a half smile, but didn't wave unlike Annaliese, who was shining beside me. She lifted my hand and shook it, but I let both of our hands fall, holding hers in my grip. I waved my other hand and smiled cheekily at her. She tore her hand from mine, and winked as she held our quiet district partner's hand instead. I took a leaf from her book and rolled my eyes, looking out to the crowd again.

We were going to make sure we made an impression, but I wanted to be the one everyone was talking about, whether people liked it or loved it.

"Anna, I'm scared," Azalea whispered to the older girl, her eyes twitching and nervous.

"Don't be. We'll be fine, just smile and wave, yeah? Smile and wave, that's all we have to do," Anna reassured the little girl, giving her hand a squeeze. I thought they were being too friendly for these Games; if you wanted to win you had to kill, not make friends and be all nice. It was okay to have a laugh and be gentle and kind and _comforting, _but they'd have to face the truth.

These Games weren't made to be _nice. _

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, District 11!"

Our chariot rolled in, met by cheering crowds and bright sunlight. I smiled as we made our way round the bend, and I heard people shouting my name joyfully, and I smiled fully for the first time since the chariot rides had begun.

* * *

Thank you to Left4Hunger for Charlie's prep team and ScandinaviaAndTheWorld for Tristan's prep team (wherever you are). Thank you!

Thank you for reviewing and building up those sponsor points! You might well need them later... *hint hint*

*~Joy~*


	7. The Chariot Rides Part 3: So little time

How does a Capitol person see the tributes...what outfits are yet to be revealed...what tributes would prefer to hide in the shadows...Ladies and gentlemen, let the Games begin. These are, the last Chariot Rides.

Main Characters: Amelia Airhate, Maristelale Missy, Codilious Leftham, Evannatt Eackala, Icyiatus Tigersery, Ammy Namery.

* * *

The Capitol: Amelia Airhate

"Mother! The chariot rides are starting!" I called out to her through the door and I flicked a switch on our remote.

Marylin smiled evilly as President Snow announced that these outfits were the best yet, with stylists having a ball with three tributes per district. Our anthem rang out, and the seal of Panem flashed onto our screen.

Afterwards, cheering could be heard from the Capitol crowds lucky enough to be actually there at the event, but if you asked me, it was always easier to watch it at home. You didn't have to think about where to look, because the camera did all of that for you. It zoomed in on particular outfits and tributes at just the right moment, and you could see everything with ease, all in the comfort of your own home.

"Amm comimm, waim mor me!" My botoxed mother screeched, her face permanently stuck into a grimace. I looked at Mary, who was suppressing a giggle at my parent's expense.

The first district's shining chariot appeared, and we oohed and ahhed as District 1's tributes rolled onto the screen. The chariot itself was jet black, with mirror and shiny things secured onto the side, glinting in the sunlight. The tributes resembled jewels or angels, shining and beaming like their vehicle.

Rolf was an emerald, Ivory was a diamond and Sequin was a ruby. Everything worked amazingly, and they waved at smiled as people cheered their names as they went past.

District 2 came through, their outfits strangely very different, and yet they worked. The costumes were never really inventive for District 2, but these ones were better than most. For Floyd, the stylists had gone for the military side of their district, and he had a camouflaged hat and jacket, with black pants and a white tee shirt. He glared out at the Capitol audience, and still they cheered for him.

Trista had gone for the medical side of the district, with a small, blue nurse's outfit and stethoscope around her neck. It resembled that of Cassia's costume last year, but with no trousers to cover Trista's legs this time.

She posed and smiled and giggled, but her mouth was always moving as though she was talking to herself.

Isabella stood on her other girl tribute's left, also in military get- up. Her dress was camouflaged as well, and was quite short for a 13 year old. She had on a green beret tilted to the side, and small black shoes. The chariot was also green, black, white and blue, trying to capture every aspect of District 2.

Somehow, everything fitted together as the tributes waved.

District 3's chariot was covered in lights and wires, all intricately tied and plaited together and weaving around the vehicle. The two girls, Tara and Mimi, had on almost identical outfits, with the only difference being the colour of their skirts. Michael's trousers were a deep red, also covered in silver lights and the same shirt the girls were wearing.

They all held hands somewhat nervously, but smiled and waved all the same. They almost blinded me as they came round the corner and all of the lights had been turned on, like a giant Christmas tree.

District 4 looked amazing again this year, with the tributes looking like gods and goddesses as their sea creature chariot moved down the track, looking as alive as the people it was carrying. Suddenly all of the animals and fish on the sides began to swim and dance like they were really trapped inside the chariot. It was like watching the real sea move on my screen and the tributes laughed and smiled as they waved.

Everyone was screaming their names again, and I saw Storm, one of their mentors, with a slight smile on his sad face as he waved them off.

District 5 looked almost grumpy and depressed as their chariot began to move. I definitely didn't blame the person in the middle, Keira May, who was dressed as a calculator. She looked ready to cry as their numbered chariot came around the bend.

Nicandro's face was actually scary as he came round, and I noticed that his outfit was virtually identical to Steath, his brother's, costume last year.

Kelby was in a school girl outfit, with a pleated chequered skirt and crisp white shirt. She tried to smile but obviously the feeling of anger and sadness was too strong in their chariot, and just waved instead. The calculator didn't even try and do that; just let her arms hang limply at her sides.

District 6's chariot was green with different symbols and equipment painted on the side.

The test tube actually cried now as they appeared on screen, her arms sticking out to the side and her smile faltering half way through. Wolf and Anya were actually smiling on either side of Rosemary, and were waving to the screaming crowd and enjoying themselves. Wolf winked at a few people in the crowd, as did Anya, both flirting and attempting to get sponsors this year.

For the District 7 tributes, they had done for trees in different seasons. Somber Thrax was a tree in winter, with a spiky black costume and her elaborate headdress of branches sat on her dark, evenly cut hair.

Derek was a tree in summer, with brown trousers and shirt, and different shades of green leaves decorating his arms, his top and his head. Lacey was a tree in autumn, with golden and red leaves in place of Derek's green ones.

The chariot was decorated like a forest, probably reminding the tributes of their home that only one or none would see again.

I felt instantly sorry for Charlie of District 8, with his patchwork outfit and the glitter that one of his stylists must have knocked onto it accidently. Schatten and Kendal looked very similar in outfits made purely of a long piece of thread wrapped around and around to form what looked like a dress.

Their chariot had a needle and thread on one side and different patterns and materials on the other. They were all trying to smile, with Charlie just waving whilst glitter fell off of his arm and over his district partners.

I almost cried with Tanya as District 9 rolled by in their hideous apple chariot, the cheese, and spaghetti and the sweet corn tin all looking so sorrowful it broke my heart. I thought I saw something red on Tanya's shoulders, but it was gone when I looked again.

The cheese had his eyebrows knitted together angrily for whatever reason, and the spaghetti looked sad and shy. The food district never had the best outfits by far, but these ones were completely terrible this year.

I wondered what their stylists were thinking when they designed the outfits.

Mare Warrens of District 10 was crying and shaking, and I knew why. She was dressed as a white horse, complete with a carrot in her hand. Ashton Samuels was dressed in a chequered red and blue shirt with dark roper jeans. He had on a woven straw hat, with a piece of wheat sticking out from his mouth.

He smiled and waved, all the time trying to cheer up Mare who was in-between the cowboy and the hunter.

Cordelia or Cori was wearing dark jeans and high heeled hunting boots. Her hair was slick and tied back in a high ponytail without a hair out of place. A quiver of arrows was secured over her shoulder, and her make-up had light, earthy tones. They looked okay, if it wasn't for the horse outfit and the farm painted on the sides of their chariot.

District 11 looked like gods and goddesses in their nature outfits complete with vines and leaves, and a crown of leaves on their heads. Their chariot was a leaf green, and matched their costumes.

Annaliese and Ruse were joking with each other, but their conversation didn't last long. They all waved to the crowd, smiling as they once again cheered the tributes' names.

Poor District 12 was dressed in typical minor's get-up. The girls both had cleavage bearing tops, black shorts and thigh high boots. Of course, they also had a hat with a headlamp to complete the outfits. Their make-up, however, had some class and was made to look like smoke and fire, and Gisli's hard black eyes really worked.

Sam was wearing black trousers and a tight top and boots. His hat matched his district partners' and his dark hair and eyes gave the same illusion as Marta and Gisli's make-up.

The whole chariot was jet black until...

"Mmook mam meh mharioh!" My mother called out, pointing to the screen. I figured she said, "Look at the chariot," but I wasn't too sure. That's when I saw sparks flying, lights shining on their black chariot and on their outfits. The golden lights shone and danced on their outfits and vehicle, giving the illusion of fire and smoke. The crowd cheered, and the tributes all smiled and waved to their fans.

I clapped and cheered with them as the President announced that their scores would be shown in 3 days, after the tributes' training, and that the interviews would begin the next day. So it was then only 5 days until the Games would actually begin.

"I can't wait!" Marylin squealed, clapping her hands together and jumping up and down. I completely agreed, watching the now blank screen. Let the Games begin!

The Capitol: Maristelale Missy

Hot or cold? Flood or drought? Forest or desert? Mountains or waste-land? So many options, so little time.

"Dahling, let's go!" Icyiatus Tigersery called out to me, and together we walked into the control room. Already inside was Evannatt Eackala, the Gamemaker in charge of the mutts, and Ammy Namery, the Gamemaker in charge of...well, just making sure everything ran as smoothly as possible.

"Where's Wendettal?" I asked, looking around for our head Gamemaker. Her bright pink bubblegum hair usually stuck out enough that you never missed her.

"She got fired because Nicole fell down the hole into the other arena and didn't die last year," Ammy said, hanging her head. I saw the tears in her eyes, and the way Evannatt wouldn't look me in the eye.

I looked between them like I was watching a ping pong match before I said, "Let me guess. My fired you mean..." I drew my finger across my neck, and Evannatt nodded sadly. I felt tears prick in my eyes, but I held myself together.

I looked at Icyiatus, who had fat tears rolling down her cheeks for our friend who we had at least worked for for about ten years.

"Who's our replacement?" I asked, looking at the door as it creaked opened to answer my question. A woman walked in, hanging her elaborate coat on a peg as she walked in. She smiled at all of us welcomingly, as though we were the new people.

"I'm Codilious Leftham, your new Head Gamemaker."

The Capitol: Codilious Leftham

I looked around at their surprised faces for a while, before settling down in a chair and motioning for Icyiatus and Maristelale to join me. I crossed my legs and leant back in my seat, watching the other Gamemakers with a curious eye. It wasn't as formal as I suspected, with all of them seeming quite nice and friendly with each other. It seemed that it would be hard to weave my way into their tight- knit group once and for all.

"So, do we have any ideas for the arena?" I asked them, looking at every member of the group. They all immediately jumped to life, and the chatter that exploded filled my ears as they all spoke at once, trying to get their ideas across.

I looked to the Gamemaker actually in charge of climate and the arena expectantly."And what about you Maristelale?" I questioned, leaning forward in my seat to hear her ideas.

"Maybe something different from last year... I mean, we had hot and cold, so maybe humid or dry, or both?" She phrased her reply as a question, looking at me as though waiting for conformation. I turned to the other silent member of the group, Icy.

"So, Icy, what do you think?" I asked the other Gamemaker, who was excitedly bouncing up and down on her chair. She smiled and clapped her hands together as she tried to get all of the thoughts that were going through her head into actual words.

"If the arena was split into different sections, we'd get more of a range of tricks and climates and mutts that we could use to kill the tributes. With more of them, we'll have to work harder," Icyiatus said, still bouncing up and down.

I thought about the ideas we had had so far. Maybe, just maybe, we could get an arena good enough to impress the president.

Maybe, just maybe, we could be ready before even the interviews even began.

The Capitol: Evannatt Eackala

I was looking around at the other Gamemakers, trying to gather enough thoughts to form an arena.

One part of my brain felt sorry for Wendettal, another felt sorry for the tributes we were about to kill again this year. The rest of my brain was committed to creating an arena and what I was going to have with my tuna sandwich in three hours.

"What about something to do with the districts?" I asked, thinking of the trees in Districts 7 and 11, the coal in 12, the animals in 10 and the water in D4. It would look very different, testing a lot of tributes.

I looked at our new instated Head Gamemaker, waiting.

"They did that a few years ago," Ammy commented, remembering the 22nd Hunger Games. I forgot about those. My idea was just flushed down the plug hole, like the whirlpool we used last year. I rested my hand on my chin, thinking yet again of my tuna sandwich and less about the arena.

"So, we have a few ideas. Let's get back to it later," Codilious said, rising from her chair and giving us all a warm smile as she closed the door behind her. I looked to my friends, and we all leaned in, instantly wanting to spread the gossip.

"I heard she's the youngest Head Gamemaker ever!" Icy exclaimed, staring bug-eyed at the door.

"I want to be like her..." Marie commented, watching the door dreamily. We all burst into laughter, and begun our daily routine of chatter and food, just as the cakes came into the room. The girls all squealed and, like a gentlemen, I waited last for my cake.

Really, it was only so that I could take two without anybody really noticing.

The Capitol: Icyiatus Tigersery

"Did we hear anything about Storm?" Ammy asked us, and I jumped up and down on my seat again, looking at everyone.

"I did!" They all turned to me expectedly, always wanting to hear the drama we had become so accustomed with lately. "I heard that he's going out with a Capitol girl! I bet she paid the Capitol a lot to let them convince him," I said knowingly, nodding at my Gamemaker friends.

"Actually, I heard they whipped his sister," Evannatt said sadly, and Marie asked the question we were all wondering.

"Which one?" It depended on which one because if it was the younger one then Storm would most likely fight back, but if it was the older one he would probably feel protective and do whatever the Capitol asked of him. And I was sure that they knew that.

"The older one, Ellanor," Evannatt replied, and we all nodded in agreement. Go figure.

"So why did they whip her?" Ammy asked, confusion written all over her face. Maristelale rolled her eyes and waved her hand in Ammy's direction.

"Because he must have refused to go out with the girl," she said, and we all ahhed as we realised that it was a very logical explanation.

"That's mean," I said, looking at the table. "Who is she?" I asked, looking at our group, waiting for an answer.

"Marylin Konra."

* * *

Okay, I'll do another question, so here is Question 2: Who said, "Yeah, just thinking. You should try it, it might get that one brain cell working." in the 27th Hunger Games? 10 sponsor points up for grabs here!

Thank you for reading and review, you guys are amazing! I'll add up your points soon!

*~Joy~*


	8. Training Part 1: Never who they seem

Prepare for training...what skills will be learnt...what talents will be revealed...who will impress...who will be on the hit list of a career once and for all? Ladies and gentlemen, let the Training begin.

Main Characters: Floyd Barabe, Michael Rubins, Perkele Fin, Keira May Winters.

* * *

District 2: Floyd Barabe

"You may begin!" The stupid Capitol woman trilled to us, in her white outfit making her look like a nurse on a mental ward. She walked out of the door, her heels clip clopping on the wooden floor. The training room was bigger than the one I was used to in District 2, with more weapons to train with, more tributes to imagine as targets.

This was my kind of training session.

My small district partner, Isabella, motioned to the group of District 1 tributes, the two girls surveying the room with a cautious eye. I didn't follow the other career was she headed towards our possible allies; the best thing to do was let them come to us. And they did.

As soon as they both saw me, standing with my arms crossed and looking at me they walked over at an antagonizing slow pace.

We didn't say anything, just did one of the things careers were good at; making silent agreements.

We headed over to the spear station, and I threw the most brutal looking weapon across the room. It landed with a thud in the dummy's stomach, and Ivory gave me an appreciative nod, whereas Sequin remained emotionless. I grunted, and watched as she sauntered off to the sword station, wielding one with precision and ease.

"Looks like you know what you're going," I said roughly, watching the girl swing the weapon around her head to pierce the dummy's heart, and it vibrated slightly with the sheer force of Sequin's blow. She smiled evilly at me, then turned back to face her unreal opponent.

She plucked the sword from her target and threw it into the instructor's hands, who wobbled and stumbled as he caught the weapon. Sequin walked away, and flashed a taunting smile at Ivory, whose dark eyes narrowed with malice.

"Why do we look over there?" Ivory said with a teasing smile at her opponent, walking over to the bows and arrows section. She picked one bow from a selection, all of them meaning nothing to me but some were made of darker wood, and that some were bigger.

To me, the one she picked was not so different from the rest.

She strung an arrow to the string, and pulled back. The arrow flew through the air with a twang, hitting a dummy fastened to the wall into the head. Sequin clapped sarcastically, earning a brief smile from Ivory. Both girls almost snarled at each other, before walking off in different directions, one to the knife section; the other to the mace and stake station.

Isabella stared at both of them and shook her head, facing me with a smirk on her face. She gestured to the fire making station, and I followed her.

Already there was Tara from three, testing out with various sticks and wires to create a flame. She glared at us slightly, and my small district partner moved forwards to say one word.

"Allies?" She made it sound like an honour to be asked, and it was. It was weird for a tribute from D3 to join the careers, but not unknown. Hopefully it would be worth our while, and she would prove valuable. If not...well, if she wasn't a career, she was dead.

We didn't talk as we moved around the training centre, moving stations quickly, never pausing for long. We were careers after all; we knew what we were doing, had everything planned out. We weren't stupid.

The Careers were strong this year, whether or not we had some competition. Hopefully, it would push both District 1 girls to prove themselves, kill off the tributes. Maybe even kill themselves, and make my job a hell of a lot easier.

We would just have to wait and see what happened, but either way, the careers would triumph again.

District 3: Michael Rubins

I stared hopelessly around the training room, looking at weapons I couldn't identify and other tributes that made me want to run through the doors and never look back. My instinct was to just get away as quickly as I could from the tributes all wanting my death.

Tara was gone before Mimi or I could even think to stop her. She talked with the deadly careers from 2, and trained with them for the rest of the session.

I looked hesitantly at Mimi, who stared back. We stood for a while, watching our competition with wide eyes.

"I think we should separate, just in case," Mimi murmured to me, and walked towards two girls, one from 7 and one from 10, who were talking near the poisonous plants station. I was left stranded on my own, still waiting at the doors, ready to bolt.

I wondered around the room, cautiously approaching some tributes. I never talked for long, and by the time I had visited almost every station, I knew that I had no possible allies in the room with me.

I stopped and tried to see if there were any competitors worth watching for the rest of my training session. I decided to watch a fight that had started to form between two tributes at the sword section, and I walked in behind my other district partner, the one that had not been converted to the careers.

A ray of silver flashed just behind Mimi's ear, and she jumped back in shock. Standing beside her were her two new friends, Lacey and Cordelia, both laughing softly at her reaction.

In front of us, Annaliese from D11 and Ashton from 10 were fighting with brutal swords, the metal clashing and ringing in my ears.

The female tribute from District 11 pounced on her opponent, her sword landing on the ground next to Ashton's head. He smiled up at her warily, and she raised a hand to help lift him up off of the ground. He took it, then pulled her down.

He braced his sword above her heart, which was thumping in her chest visibly.

"Touché," Anna said, clambering to her feet and shaking Ash's hand warmly. They grinned at each other before parting ways and breaking off the fight. I was still standing where I was, just thinking. If I was faced with either of the fighters, I wouldn't even stand a chance, let alone against any of the careers.

"Maybe next time," Annaliese said from behind me, and I jerked forward in surprise. She laughed softly at my reaction, and touched my shoulder briefly.

Her smile was warmer than most I had received today, not filled with hate or threats or danger. It was just a smile from a friend to a friend. I ran away quickly, not looking behind me. I couldn't afford to have friends, not now. She wasn't my ally, she couldn't help me. She could stab me in the back just as easily as she smiled to my face. Never trust anyone, especially people who appear innocent.

Most of the time, they never are.

District 4: Perkele Fin

"If you want to have a chance of winning, you'll say yes," I told her, smiling flirtatiously at the female tribute. I couldn't remember her name; I didn't need to. Hopefully, I'd have her in my reach before she had to even introduce herself.

She raised a cool, blonde eyebrow at me, and beamed back.

"If you want a chance of surviving the rest of the day, you'll go away," she replied, flipping me off and flicking her hair over her shoulder. I followed after, walking backwards in front of her and trying to keep pace with her quick walk.

"Ah, are you sure? You still have time to change your mind," I said, and she smiled at me.

"I don't need it changing for me, thank you. Now get out of my way, you're blocking the winner's path." I snorted as she waved at me the way a queen would wave at her subjects. She continued to walk, and I continued to follow. I wasn't giving up for a few harsh comments.

"Is that your final answer?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and stopping, bringing the tribute to a halt. She glared at me from under long, silvery eyelashes and batted them slightly.

She put her hand on my chest and pushed me away.

"Yes," she whispered, crooking her mouth to the side with a tilt of her lips. I faked being stabbed, clutching my heart, and stumbling backwards with a look of pain on my face. I looked at her, and moved my hair out of my face with a flick of my wrist.

"Well, that's a shame. I'll just have to change your mind myself," I told her, a smile creeping yet again onto my flawless face. She snorted and sauntered off, back to her career friends.

Whether they liked it or not, I was a career, born and raised, through and through. They weren't going to block me out so easily.

District 5: Keira May Winters

Somehow, as I wondered around the training centre I seemed to have joined a small group of 5 other tributes and myself, all practising together. I knew a group this large wouldn't survive long, but it was nice to have usual chatter around me that I could usually contribute to.

"Keira May, can you climb?" Somebody from our group asked me, one of the other girls, and I nodded eagerly. Maybe I couldn't use weapons like some of the others could, but at least I could climb.

I started to teach some of the less fortunate tributes how to climb a low, basic tree. Some made it, some were less successful.

As we continued to work on spears, with the small career hovering near us critically, the door to the training centre opened to reveal a few of the Gamemakers enter the room. They talked amongst themselves for a while, completely ignoring us.

"Ahem, may we please have your attention!" One of the brunettes called out to us, clapping her perfectly manicured hands together to make us listen. She smiled when she realised all of us were turned her way, and motioned to another woman standing beside her.

"Your Head Gamemaker, Codilious Leftham!"

She brandished her hand to the side to collect the rest of her glory moment before handing the spotlight over to the other Gamemaker. She smiled at us somewhat evilly, and also clapped her hands to get our attention yet again, or just to illustrate a point, I didn't know.

"Shortly, we will begin your private sessions, in which you will show myself and the other Gamemakers whatever skills you wish. We will then mark you all out of twelve and the scores will be shown tonight when we view the... prologue, as you might say, to the Games. The next day, your interviews will be held. After all of that is over, the following day you will be prepped and see your outfits for the first time and enter the arena. After one minute, the Games will begin. Are we clear?" Codilious asked, and a murmur rang through the group of yes and yes ma'ams.

"Thank you. You will have your supper, and then meet us outside these doors to begin your private training sessions. May the odds be ever in your favour." She left the room, her group of Gamemakers in tow.

The rest of the tributes who already had allies erupted into chatter, and I turned to my new group of possible friends.

"Are you in?" Ruse from 11 asked me, and Derek tapped me on the shoulder for me to answer. I looked at my group, which also included my fellow district partner Kelby Fuse, Kendal Resista from District 8 and Anya Rayne. Maybe I didn't exactly trust the latter, but I would rather be with them than against them in a fight. I had seen some of them with the weapons, and I hoped I would never be on the receiving end of their various skills.

"I'm in," I replied, and almost thought we would all out our hands in the middle and then reach up shouting something. Unfortunately, we just followed each other out of the door and our meal.

I would never get used to Capitol food or ways; I never had time. None of us ever did, ever truly would have.

* * *

Okay, extra questions. Questions 3: Who was Perkele talking to? Was it a) Ivory Noire, b) Tara Green Flowers, c) Sequin Allure or d) Me? Okay, forget the last one, but opinions please! There are clues hidden in the I skipped out 2 chapters ago, here's Question 4: There was a reference to a TV show in here. Can you find it? As always, 10 sponsor points up for grabs for both questions!

Again, thank you so much for reviewing! I got loads for the last chapter, and I want just as many for this one! Just saying, not flames please. You know who you are...I'm joking, but I have to be cautious: I forgot my marshmallows today.

*~Joy~*


	9. Training Part 2: I don't want you to die

This is the next chapter in the tributes lives... but will it be the last...who will be doomed before the arena is even revealed...who will have a death sentance before death is even thrust upon them? Ladies and gentlemen, let the Games begin. This is, the training sessions.

Main Characters: Somber Thrax, Kendal Resista, Ashton "Ash" Samuels, Annaliese "Anna" Konra.

* * *

District 10: Ashton "Ash" Samuels

When you watch people you will have to kill talk to you like friends, and you answer back, it's like a knife being trusted into you. Even as we trained, everyone felt the same; I don't want you to die.

For most people I spoke to, the words echoed in my head, but I didn't let them show. I had to still play the Game before it had even begun. So when I talked to a beautiful girl with wavy golden hair and shining emerald eyes, I had to excuse myself to stop me from screaming inside.

"Are you okay?" She asked me, tilting her head to the side. She did that when she was thinking things through, studying people. I knew now that she was very good at that, and wouldn't accept the lies that most other tributes had.

I wanted to, but I couldn't lie to her.

"I just can't believe that 35 people in this room are going to die in only two days," I said, immediately wanting to take it back, lock the feelings back up again. I knew from experience that it was best to keep people in the dark, keep them guessing, and never finding the answer they were looking for.

I wanted stay the way I had for around 15 years, but she changed me. And that thought scared me more than anything else ever could in these Games.

She didn't say anything, just continued to watch me silently. I was thankful for that small mercy at least. I watched her as well, taking in every little detail that would most likely be dead and gone in a few days. I sucked in a breath as she opened her mouth to speak.

"I don't think any of us can. We just won't admit it." I was aware of my mouth gaping open but I ignored it. How had she understood me so easily? I watched her again, words not able to form in my mouth without letting the ones in my head out.

_I don't want you to die. _

"I have to go," I stuttered, moving away from the tribute with long legs and curly bronze hair and a wide smile. I didn't like people knowing me, the real me. I preferred to stay a mystery never to be solved, and yet she had cracked me with ease.

I wandered over to the edible berries station, not meeting the hurt, emerald eyes I knew were trained on me. I wanted to remain a mystery, a secret. I didn't want to fall in love. _But I don't want her to die. _

District 7: Somber Thrax 

"Gisli, District 12," the girl introduced in front of me, and I shook her hand impassively. She smiled at me, but it was a bit empty. A cursed and haunted smile made for ghosts. I smiled somewhat cautiously back, watching her for any signs of broken pieces.

Then I remembered a face similar to hers, very similar, so similar they could've been related. It was a face with dark, stormy eyes and black floppy hair.

A face I remembered covered in blood, a face that paled and lips that turned blue.

"Gisli Raylor," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. Her brother was Eko, and he had died last year. No wonder there was an almost mourning look in her identical eyes, so much like her dead brother's. Maybe, inside, she was still mourning his death.

I wanted to say I was sorry for her loss, but I felt that it would somehow just reopen the old wound that had never fully healed. Gisli motioned to a small girl and someone else standing behind her that I hadn't noticed through my thoughts and memories.

"This is Azalea and Anna, from District 11," Gisli told me, motioning to the two girls. Anna's smile was comfortable and wide, whereas her district partner was small and fragile. Both of the older girls hovered over the small tribute like mothers hovering over their children protectively.

I had to smile at that.

"Gisli, did you say you wanted to look at the spears?" Anna asked her possible ally. The girl nodded, and turned away before just touching my shoulder gently.

"Come with us, Somber?" She asked me, and I considered her question.

If I followed this group of girls then I would probably ally with them, and I was as sure as hell that it would be a strong alliance to keep. If I turned them away, then I would be stuck on my own. That never seemed to be a brilliant plan in these Games. Strategy was everything, and I had a feeling that everyone in this room knew that all too well.

And so, I followed the tributes of 11 and 12, hoping my decision would pay off in the end, not cost me my life.

District 11: Annaliese "Anna" Konra 

I shook my head, trying to take in everything I had learnt that day.

There was the boy with thick dark hair and dark green eyes, the mourning dark haired girl, my small and delicate district partner, and the strong willed, hazel eyed tribute. Their faces flashed my head as I watched the other tributes.

The careers were showing off their strength with various rocks and weapons. The boy from 4 was still trying to weave his way in, but Sequin obviously didn't like him. It seemed that she had taken control of the group, along with Floyd, and her word was law.

The big group moved around quickly, every tribute having something different to contribute to their alliance. I shuddered as I thought of being outnumbered one to six. Both of the big groups would be tough competition, but alliances that big never survived long in these Games.

I was stuck watching the others as they moved around, and I thought of Storm. I don't know why I thought of the past victor, or why the image of him holding his ally's bloody and broken body flashed into my mind, but it did.

Somehow, I imagined myself holding a faceless body as well, and it scared me. It scared me more than anything in these Games could.

It wasn't the fact of being alone, but instead, of losing someone I loved.

One of the reasons I looked after Azalea was because she reminded me of my little sister, Roslyn. My little Rose, with stormy grey eyes and identical hair to mine. Yes, with her small form and fragile nature, Azalea really did remind me of my only remaining family member left now.

"Somber, how are you fitting in?" I joked, looking at the District 7 girl who stood beside me. She smiled for the first time, and tilted her hand and shook it basically mean okay. I laughed, pleased with making a new friend so soon.

"Are you okay, Lea?" I asked the little girl, who was almost shaking with tears starting to fall.

I didn't know what had bought it on, but I was guessing it was the image of Floyd throwing his spear right past her ear and almost touching her with it.

"I don't want the Games to begin," she moaned quietly so nobody could hear. Despite her mood, she obviously was smart enough to know that people could be listening everywhere. I smiled sadly down at her, as did Gisli.

I got on with the girl from 12 very well, as we both just wanted someone to look after. We shared the roll happily knowing we were similar enough to remain friends either way. I nodded at her, silently saying she could comfort Azalea as she very obviously wanted to.

"Is she okay?" Somber asked me, and I nodded warily. These Games were really starting to take their toll on people already, and the interviews were yet to start.

As I looked at my group of new friends, and met the deep green eyes of the boy from District 10, only 6 words twisted and turned in my head, never fading like I hoped they would.

_I don't want you to die. _

District 8: Kendal Resista 

"Go, go, go!" I called out, and Derek and Ruse raced across the training room, neither keeping to their allocated lanes. They were neck and neck, both running as quickly as they could down the track. I blew a whistle to signal the end of the race, and they both slowed to a stop in front of me.

I tried to determine who exactly had won, but they had seemed to cross the line at exactly the same time. I attempted to figure out and remember if one had pulled ahead slightly, but I drew a blank.

"And it's a tie!" I called out, earning groans from the boys. I shrugged my shoulders, and walked over to where my allies stood talking.

Kelby, Anya and Keira May stood huddled at the other end of the track, and I jogged over to them.

"I swear, I caught an eagle once," Anya boasted, smiling slightly. You could never tell whether she was telling the truth, but more often than not it was lies that came out of her mouth. I wasn't exactly Anya's biggest fan, but the rest of the group had accepted her and I didn't see why I shouldn't too.

"Mhm," I mumbled, nodding sarcastically and slowly. The tribute rolled her eyes as the rest if our group tried to hide their giggles without success, earning a glare from Anya. The boys joined us, talking about - you guessed it - eagles for some reason.

I burst into uncontrollable giggles for no reason as the other tributes backed away from me slowly.

"I think she's kinda high- maintenance sometimes," Anya muttered, watching my clutch my stomach and gasp for breath.

"I'm not... high... maintenance," I choked out, offended slightly. I knew Anya was joking though, and plus, I just couldn't stop laughing.

"Well she's definitely high on something," Keira May commented, making me laugh even more. I wiped tears from my eyes and stretched, my back getting used to not being hunched over in a laughing fit. The rest of my alliance started laughing too as I yawned slightly.

Laughing was tiring if you didn't stop.

Then, five strange Capitol people walked through the open doors, wearing uniforms and long coats. Gamemakers.

The Head Gamemaker, Codilious Hammer or something like that, addresses us and declared in an official voice, "Your private training sessions are about to begin. Good luck." She left, her long coat swishing behind her like a villain's cape.

I watched my fellow competitors filtered out of the training room for one final time, in district order. Everyone was silent; the Game had begun.

* * *

I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I seem to like using metaphors a lot. There are millions in this chapter, but were they worth your while?

The answer to question 1) Jem said the line "I feel like a stupid Christmas tree." Loads of people got that one, well done!  
The answer to question 2) Selena said the line "Yeah, just thinking. You should try it, might get that one brain cell working." Well done to everyone who got that one!The answer to question 3) Perkele was talking to Sequin Allure! Ha, it was 50/50 between her and Ivory, but well done to everyone who guessed it right!  
And finally, the answer to question 4) It was actually the line "Is that your final answer?" from Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.

Thank you so much everyone for reviewing!

*~Joy~*


	10. Training Part 3: In the life of

The private sessions...who will stand out...who will become a target...who will impress...who will fail? Ladies and gentlemen, let the Games begin. This is, the training.

Main Characters: Codilious Leftham, Maristelale Missy, Evannatt Eackala, Ammy Namery, Icyiatus Tigersery, all tributes.

* * *

The Capitol: Ammy Namery

Chicken, coleslaw, salad, pork, apples, potatoes, bread, vegetables, fish, eggs; food not even I could resist.

My mouth literately watered as Evannatt grabbed a tuna sandwich on the other end of the table. I wanted to do the same, but a knock that sounded on the door made me realise that we still had tributes to watch. The only male Gamemaker in the room licked his fingers within seconds, the tuna sandwich suddenly gone.

The tribute that walked into the room scared me from the start.

He had slick, white blond hair with steel grey eyes. His build was medium, as was his height, but it was the glare in his eyes that truely made a shiver run down my spine. Rolf Cadomay was a career, born and raised.

He considered a range of swords on the wall, and chose a light-weight, ninja style one with a hideously shiny, sharp blade. He swung it around his head, before plunging it into the heart of a dummy to his left, piercing its imaginary heart. He did a few more fancy moved with the sword and other lighter weight weapons, before I waved my hand to the exit door.

He left grumbling about something, slamming the wooden frame with a force not to be reckoned with.

Next up was Ivory Noire, was picked up a heavy looking bow and strung an arrow to the string. She let go, and it flew through the end and landed in the eye of a dummy across the room.

I started to clap, but realized that my fellow Gamemakers were giving me weird looks, so I quickly acted as though I was playing with the silver bracelet on my wrist. She smirked slightly, before flipping through the air and span around.

I yawned slightly and Ivory snarled at me as she came back down to earth. This time Maristelale had the honour of sending the second tribute to the door.

In came Sequin Allure, flicking her silvery blonde hair over her curved shoulder with a beaming, gleaming smile. She ran lengths across the training room track, quicker than some last year, with her long legs and slender frame. She grabbed a random sword from the rack, and sliced through countless dummies, spreading the fluff and fabric all over the floor. Icyiatus motioned to the door and declared that Sequin could leave, and leave she did.

She blew a kiss to Evannatt who blushed slightly, and shook her hips all the way to the door.

Next to bat was Floyd Barabe, the male tribute from District 2. First, he waltzed over to a boulder sitting in one corner of the training room; one that I happened to know was at least double my weight. He threw it half way across the room, landing on a red painted target on the floor.

Codilious nodded her head appreciatively, before telling Floyd that he could go. The tribute didn't even look our way as he marched out of the door.

Trista Angel was muttering to herself as she walked into the room, not meeting our eyes. Yet another girl who could run, it seemed. She nodded to us and walked away from the door, ignoring Evannatt's kind smile.

She muttered something that sounded a lot like, "You would be a fast runner, Lily."

I shook my head as the door closed, putting a firm brick wall between me and the possibly crazy girl from District 2.

Isabella Rose, the small volunteer, followed after, her auburn hair pulled backwards into a high, practical ponytail. The tribute ran across the track, and I decided to make a list of the girl runners as there were so many. Sequin Allure, Isabella Rose and Trista Angel, that was the order so far. She then picked a knife from a selection, and sliced it across her arm.

I gasped, but then saw the way she wrapped it up in a bandage, expertly and quickly. She left the room boldly, not giving us a second look.

Michael Rubins went around setting different traps, throwing dummies into them and almost making it comical to watch. He did voices and everything. Thankfully, he didn't try to run, but the boys rarely did anymore.

He waited patiently to be dismissed, and walked shyly from the room with his head hung. His sense of humour wouldn't really help him survive these Games.

Tara Green Flowers, a name truly worthy of the Capitol, made her way into the centre of the room, a knife strapped into her belt. With a flick of her wrist she threw it into the heart of the dummy to her right, smiling slightly at she did so. She was so career-like, it was scary.

District 3 was rarely known for their amount of victors.

For one moment I thought that she was one of the girls not going to run before she tore down the track, running as fast as she probably could. I added her to my list, in between the tributes from 2.

Mimi Madeline Lombardi, a name which I had to giggle slightly at as I saw it on my piece of paper. She tested out the plants picking them up and saying if they were poisonous or not from memory. She also got her name added to the running list, in between Tara and Isabella. She set a few traps, but nothing remotely special.

Yes, she knew her stuff, but she didn't touch any weapons apart from plunging a dagger into one of the dummies' fake hearts.

Up to the post was Perkele Fin, ladies' man and total hottie. I almost drawled as he swung a mace around his head, and threw a heavy trident around the room, piercing the dummies like chicken on a kebab, like the one sitting beside me...

Then Perkele smiled, and the kebab seemed to disappear before my eyes, which happened to be turned on the District 4 tribute in front of me. Evannatt told him he could leave, and Maristelale hit his arm angrily, as did the rest of the female Gamemakers.

He shrugged his shoulders and sat back in his chair as the next tribute came in.

I almost marked Morganna Ren higher because she didn't race like all of the other girls before her, and threw various knives across the room. By now, we had seen 10 tributes, and the clock on the wall seemed louder than before. We smiled at the tribute and waved her away, my mouth watering again as the smell of roasted turkey wafted towards my end of the table.

Next was the previous victor's cousin, Mylene Frostblight. She threw a spear that I didn't think she'd be able to lift across the room, and chased after it, showing her speed. I put her in between Sequin and the 13 year old. I motioned to the door, and she grumbled as she threw down her weapon.

Obviously she hadn't shown everything to us that she had wanted to.

Nicandro O'Malley glared at us as he walked in, and started setting traps across the training room. Somehow he found the rope that released the dummies, and pulled. They all collapsed onto the traps, some being torn to pieces and other being lifted my fishing nets.

He watched them and ran off down the track, away from any other allies lurking around presumably if he were in the real Games.

Codilious smiled and waved to the door where Nico walked, his head high and back straight. Maybe he had more of a chance than his brother.

Keira May disappointed me by being yet another runner, tearing through the training room at a speed worthy of third place in my list, but the tribute of District 1 still held the crown. She climbed onto the training equipment and onto the fake vines hanging from the ceiling, and set even more traps.

Traps seemed to be very popular in these Games rather than hand to hand weapons like last year.

I yawned again but the tribute carried on as the chicken seemed to beckon me. I cleared my throat, both for me and Keira May, and motioned to the door with a smile.

Kelby Fuse was next, and she was placed second in my list for running, replacing Mylene Frostblight and stealing second place. With so many girls, I had to say that I wasn't surprised that there were so many runners, but this was excruciating to watch now, and we still had 8 more districts to go.

She did a few tricks and moves with swords and wires, but nothing that made her really stand out more than others who used traps and swords.

Wolf Spanes was the following tribute that we had to watch, and was another that ran across the track, almost smiling as he did so. He set some traps with non-edible plants and almost teased the dummy by eating something similar to the thing in his hand, before making his victim eat it.

He then voiced the noise of a cannon as he untied the dummy from the wall. It was a good performance, but he didn't touch any of the more valuable weapons.

Next up was Anya Rayne, who snuck around the room, stealing random things from stations. She stole a knife and very subtly removed it from her belt as she threw it through the air to land above our heads in the wall. Icyiatus screamed, even though the knife was at the other end of the table.

She coughed and hastily told the tribute to leave.

It just so happened that as Rosemary walked in that an apple rolled down the table to land in front of me. I looked left and right and stuffed it into my mouth as she picked up the paints and drew a knife glinting in the sun. She then stood in front of the knife station, showing how her arm blended in perfectly with the background.

Rosemary turned and picked a dagger and ran to plunge in into another dummy's head, not pausing before picking up a bow and arrow and firing it at the ceiling, where it struck a fake bird that fell to the floor.

It was a shame; Polly had managed to survive all of the training sessions so far.

I thought a while as I considered the 18 tributes we had seen, but I could still only remember a few faces. As I bit down on my apple, I watched Polly being taken away as not to distract the other tributes. It was another half an hour before the training room had been cleared, ready for the next set of tributes.

It would be a very long day.

The Capitol: Icyiatus Tigersery

Must. Stay. Awake. Must. Not. Eat. Must. Watch. Tributes. Must. Stay. Awake.

The words twisted and curled in my head, constantly repeating themselves over and over, never stopping. If they did, then I feared for my consciousness, my hunger and my will to watch endless tributes fight fake dummies with awkward swords and set traps for no one in particular.

It was a boring life in the life of a Gamemaker, especially if that Gamemaker is forced to judge the competitors in one of the Games. Then, it was a hard life in the life of a Gamemaker. People didn't realise how lucky they were.

First up was Derek Tyras of District 7, lifting the weights that no other tributes had touched yet. He was okay with a spear, but it struck a place that was obviously not the target.

_You know you want me. Just one bite. _The chocolate beside me teased, and I shook my head quickly. I knew I should've gotten more sleep last night, rather than staying out with the girls and dying my hair a new, vivid green.

Ammy nudged me, pointing to a piece of paper beside her. At the top, written in scribbled hand writing, was the title "Running." I looked at her, and saw the names of the tributes, written in order of speed. I nodded as she moved the paper closer to me, pointing to the door.

She wanted me to carry on for the next 17 tributes, but I obliged anyway. I would get her back later, even if it would be quite fun to score the tributes for speed, just to see who would win in a race.

Next into the training room was Somber Thrax, a girl whose talent was obviously her speed. She flew down the track, claiming first place in my running list. She then handled an axe easily, being from the lumber district, plunging in into the hearts of various dummies and targets throughout her session.

Up for marking after was Lacey Kalex, a tribute who had kept herself to herself for most of the chariot rides and training. This was yet another girl that could run. She earned fifth place, not yet getting herself a medal for her efforts. S

he threw darts at a dart board, and I wondered how that would help her in the Games until she dipped the tips into berries from the plant station. She threw it at a poison detector, which sizzled.

Her darts were ready to kill.

In came Charlie Haven, a tribute I had pegged to not survive the bloodbath from the start, but then again, I had been wrong before. He started to thread two pieces of material together, creating a big, net type object. He set a trap, then actually jumped inside the net. With a small pen-knife, he cut his way out slowly. He jumped to the ground awkwardly, and waited patiently to leave.

He was too young though; no one under 14 really survived to the final eight.

Next was Kendal Resista, another girl in the running for fastest tribute. She came close third by my standards, and I jotted down her name beneath the District 1 tribute's.

She picked up a few knives and threw them around the training room, hitting the targets as she went. She had pretty good aim for a girl from District 8.

Schatten Tomar - ha, such a strange name - ran down the track once more. I placed her between the tributes from D4 and D5. I had started to call her Shadow Girl, as did most people in the Capitol, because she was supposed to be dead. With her stealing skills and talent to blend into the shadows, maybe she could cheat Death again.

She threw a few knives, but she wasn't as good as her district partner before her. I motioned to the door with a smile, and she snuck out virtually unnoticed.

Tristan Workle was the male tribute for District 9, and he was one of the only boys to run down the track. Like my fellow Gamemaker, I didn't rate him, as the list was mainly for the female runners. He then picked up a strange object, which I vaguely recognised as a boomerang. He threw it, taking the head off of a dummy and circling back round to Tristan. It was impressive, and worked well.

He then picked a knife from the selection and carved into a dummy quickly, his hand moving like a blur. Maristelale directed him to the door, letting her smile slip as he turned away.

Up to bat was Brook Callins, and was again another runner.

Eventually I gave up trying to rate the tributes, and threw the piece of paper into the bin before Ammy could object. The chocolate still stared at me with wide, chocolate-y pieces filled with choc goodness. She picked a dagger from the station and like tributes before her, sliced into the dummies throughout the room.

Poor Tatania Braeburn didn't really know what to do. She stood in the middle of the room, looking aimlessly at us with young, blue eyes. She shuffled her feet before bursting into tears and running from the room. Peacekeepers were waiting for her at the door; her muffled screams travelled through the door against our will.

Ashton Samuels raced straight to the bows and arrows, picking a particularly heavy one from the rack. He pulled back, and let the arrow fly into the middle of a target.

With a drop and roll he let his bow fall to the floor and tied a trap using wire, and placing it under a dummy. Crawling backwards he strung another arrow to his string and shot down the rope that held up his target, letting it be captured by his wire, trapping the now immobile foot.

Mare Warrens joined us next, and was yet another runner. I was really getting bored of seeing girls tear up and down the track, puffing away as they propelled themselves forward.

She drew patterns on her arms, mud and leaves and sunlight, blending into a background that wasn't there. She picked a whip from an array of weapons, the first tribute to do so so far, and lashed out at the dummy before excusing herself and leaving the room.

The final District 10 tribute climbed up the various vines, after hoarding a bow and arrow in her belt, and shooting down a dummy from her place, perched near the ceiling. She then clambered back down, and ran down the track and back towards our table.

She waited for permission to leave, and walked away with a smile on her face.

District 11's boy tribute, Ruse Kennedy, and also decided to climb up the ropes and fake vines. He then picked a scythe from the table of particularly random weapons, and swung it around, chopping off dummies' heads as he went. It was an interesting weapon, and I only knew the name from reading it on a sheet of paper Ammy had passed to me.

Next was the petite Azalea. Yet another runner, but definitely not as fast as the District 2 thirteen year old. She was good with a sword at least and okay at throwing knives.

She tried to pick up the axe sitting on the table, and grunted as she did so. She lifted it about a millimetre off of the wooden surface before dropping it with a thud. She tried to cover her mistake by slashing again with the swords, but I showed her to the door before she could dig herself deeper into a hole.

Annaliese walked over to the knot tying station, the first tribute to do so.

She tied the end of a rope hanging down from the ceiling in a perfect and fast loop, but I thought that it was all. I yawned again before she started to climb up the rope before hooking her legs through the rope. She flipped her legs around and flew through the air, landing a bit shakily on the ground.

I wondered what she did, until I saw the five knives stuck into five different dummies, all in the head. She had thrown the heavy weapons that she hid in her belt as she flipped.

Sam Jacobs started to make a small slingshot out of wood, and threw various poisonous berries and stones across the room, with reasonable aim. He then picked up a sword and swung it around, showing his possible strength.

Codilious held her hand out towards the door, and the remaining boy tribute left the room.

The food was really starting to take its toll on me now, and if you factored in my drowsiness into the equation, then I was truly surprised that I could concentrate on the tribute about to come through the door. And that contestant was Marta Wren Harris, an obvious climber. She almost ran to the top of the ceiling, stealth- like in her movements.

When I was watching, anyway. The pig watched me with wide eyes, an apple stuck in its mouth. _Yum. _

The final tribute was Gisli Raylor, who didn't touch the weapons. Instead, she made her way around the training room, finding clever ways to taunt the dummies to their inevitable deaths. She was inventive, using everything from the word, "allies," to leaving berries unguarded and pretending to let the dummy be poisoned.

But by now, even the obviously deadly berries looked delicious.

* * *

The training scores will be revealed next chapter, when we next see Amelia and her scandalous friend, Marylin.

In answer to your earlier question, ScandinaviaAndTheWorld, I don't know why we had penguins but we were talking about marshmallows because of flamers. Brian over there, which is what I have chosen to call our example, sent me a review that is a flame.

As always, thank you so much for reviewing the story, I will be adding up those precious sponsor points soon!

~Joy~


	11. Interviews Part 1: Stand by my friends

The interviews... lights, camera, action... but who will steal the limelight... who will impress out jubilant host... who will become a target? Ladies and gentlemen, let the interviews begin.

Main Characters: Amelia Airhate, Rolf Cadomay, Trista Angel, Mimi Madeline Lombardi (Including clips from ALL interviews Districts 1-4)

* * *

The Capitol: Amelia Airhate 

It's a fact that you haven't been in an awkward situation until you start to watch the 28th Hunger Games, with your botoxed mother, your best friend and her boyfriend, who happens to have won the last Games.

And that's not even including the fact that you sponsored him last time and that he also had a family member in the arena this year.

"Hey, Amelia, can you get us some drinks?" Oh, and did I mention that I was basically playing a waitress/ hostess for my best friend? I grumbled an inaudible reply, which received a pitiful look from Storm. But I didn't want his pity: I wanted him out of my house.

I handed Mary the drinks as she sat in the victor's lap, and she gingerly placed them down on the table before virtually attacking Storm. It seemed that Casey was "so last year".

"Oh, look. The scores," I said loudly, which made Marylin finally bring her head up for air. Storm flashed a winning smile, before gently taking his girlfriend off of his lap, and into the seat beside.

Her bottom lip trembled slightly as I gagged behind their backs.

"Amemlma, domt mee mean," my mother scolded, shaking her head. I rolled my eyes, and sat on the other end of the couch, away from the kissing couple. The reason I was so appalled and my mother was not, was because I knew exactly how much money Marylin had paid to get Storm as her boyfriend. It was not a pretty amount.

I always thought it would be cool if people from District 1 got a score of 1; people from District 2 got a 2, and so on. Of course, no career usually got below a 7.

And so, the scores went like this. For District 1, Rolf got a 9, Ivory got a 10, and Sequin got an 11. The smiling faces all had that perfect sense of danger, pleasure and victory that all careers had after receiving their scores.

District 2, Floyd got an 11, Trista got a 10 and Isabella got a 9. District 3, Michael got a 6, Mimi got a 7 and Tara got an 8. All reasonably high scores, especially for District 3. I felt sorry for them, trapped between career districts on both sides. If they were in district order at the cornucopia, the D3 tributes usually died before they even got a chance to run to the golden horn.

Perkele Fin received an 8, probably because all of the female Gamemakers liked the look of his throwing around a few of the weights. Morganna got a 9, and her district partner got a 10, higher than her cousin's score last year.

District 5's boy, Nico, got a reasonable 5, Kelby Fuse got 6 and Keira May got a respectable 7. It was strange; we hadn't had a District 5 winner for at least 10 years, and maybe these tributes would prove the tradition wrong.

Wolf Spanes, who wiggled his hips more than most boys thought necessary, scored only a 5. Anya Rayne scored a 6 and Rosemary got a 7. All perfectly okay scores, but not really winner material. However, I had been proved wrong before.

Derek got a 6, Lacey Kalex scored a 7 and Somber caught herself an amazing 8. It wasn't as good as some scores for District 7 last year, but people rarely scored 7s and 8s over District 6. None of the poorer districts ever had much of a chance against the careers, usually at least.

Charlie got an 5, surprise surprise, Shadow Girl, her name through-out the Capitol and most districts now, received a 6. Their district partner got a 7. Pretty good scores, I guessed. It was strange, seeing as most boys got the lowest out of their district. Maybe later some tributes would break the pattern.

Tatania only got a 3, bless her, whereas her district partners both scored a 7. District 9 rarely did well, and was the 10th in the list of victors, followed by D11 and D12.

District 10 did particularly well this year, getting similar scores to Battler and Lyli last Games. Mare Warrens got a high 7, Cori Harlow scored an 8, as did her district partner, Ashton. Obviously, they impressed the Gamemakers a lot. It always made me curious to see inside the mind of a Gamemaker, just seeing what they really thought of the tributes.

Ruse Kennedy, the boy tribute for District 11, scored a 6, Annaliese a 5 and petite Azalea only a 4. I had already marked her as a bloodbath candidate, especially with a poor score like that. Maybe she would surprise me; maybe not.

District 12 could've done better, I thought at least, with Sam scoring a 5, Marta getting a 6 and Gisli Raylor getting a 7, higher than her brother's last year. He had made it quite far, so maybe she had a hope in hell too.

"Hey, Mia, can you get some popcorn? I really do love the interviews!" Marylin squealed, clapping her hands joyfully, again. Storm smiled a wry smile at her, his grip on the arms of his chair tightening slightly. If I had blinked I would've missed it.

I left the room, accompanied with an eye roll from my mother. I returned holding a bowl of freshly popped popcorn, sweet, just like we usually liked it.

But of course, everything had to be 'purrfect' for her new boyfriend. First impressions and all that.

"You know Storm likes toffee, Amelia!" Mary cried, her eyebrows knitting together as she scowled at me. I threw the bowl in her face, causing her to jump halfway into the air and knocking the corn everywhere. I stormed off, and into my room. I would watch the interviews there, away from the sickly sweet couple.

Maybe the sweet popcorn wasn't a good idea after all.

District 2: Trista Angel 

Yawn.

That earned me a hard scowl from my stylist as she prepared my interview outfit and make-up, picking and plucking away at my fragile skin. _You wouldn't have liked this either, Lily. _I thought to my dead daughter, my pride and joy.

Gone, like most of the hairs on my body.

"All ready!" My stylist cooed, but I barely acknowledged her. I was concentrating on my beautiful appearance, almost shining in the full length mirror in front of me. It was a sky blue dress, hanging just to my knees. It floated as I walked, curling around my legs like a soft cloud. It was perfect, more so with my curled strawberry blonde hair and icy blue eyes, the exact colour of my dress. I was on to a winner; heck, I _was _a winner.

_You would have loved the blue sky, Lily. _I thought to myself, looking at the colour of my interview outfit.

I walked out on stage, greeted by a warm smile from Caesar. Maybe he was being told through his small, metal ear piece how "mentally unstable" I was, or "homicidally inclined" they thought I might be. Like I was the one who killed my baby girl; no one was really to blame for my miscarriage, just the injustice in the world.

"Welcome, Panem, to the 28th Hunger Games' tribute interviews! We are joined by 36 contestants, all wanting to steal your hearts, and money! So, without further ado, please welcome Ivory Noire onto the stage!" Caesar called out to the crowd, met with cheers and rounds of applause.

The tribute was wearing a mini purple dress and lace up purple shoes with ribbons up to her knees. Her eyes were dramatic and smoky, earning cat calls from Capitol boys in the crowd.

Boys used to stare at me as I walked past too, but not anymore. Now they laughed at just the sight of me.

"So, Ivory, is there a lucky boy at home?" Caesar asked her, leaning forward in his seat towards the District 1 girl. She laughed, flicking her hair over her shoulder, a pose worthy of Sequin. Speaking of the devil, her district partner's hands balled into fists.

"No, but there always can be. I think I see some hotties in the crowd," she teased, winking at the audience. A few wolf whistles were her answer.

"Well, thank you for your time!" The host said as the buzzer sounded the end of Ivory's interview. She waved and blew a kiss to her fans, before sauntering back to her seat, lucky that Sequin wasn't sitting next to her. Caesar motioned for Rolf to come on stage.

"Rolf, what's your angle for the Games?" He asked the silver and green clad tribute, who just grunted in reply before replying,

"Defend and kill. Simple really; just survive as long as possible." Caesar coughed, and I got the feeling that the atmosphere was less than comfortable at the moment.

"So, have any lucky girls caught your eye?"

"Not necessarily, no," Rolf answered, not giving anything away. Reserved and calculating, as always. _You would have been sweet and kind, Lily. _I thought.

I thought I saw him glance at the row of tributes, but I blinked and his head was definitely turned to Caesar; I must have imagined it. Next up to bat was Sequin Allure, flicking her silvery blonde hair over her shoulder, a move that she was now famous for. She would easily be forgotten, however, if she was one of the 35 to die.

Caesar motioned for the tribute to take a seat, and she gracefully floated to her place on stage. She was wearing a provocative silver dress, with matching pendant that I presumed was her token.

_You would move like her, Lily. You would be beautiful. _

"So, Sequin, do you think you have a chance of winning the Games? Or are you just a vain career?" Caesar asked her. She laughed, a sound like the tinkling of bells echoing in an open room, yet it still managed to sound menacing.

I would have thought the question would annoy her, but instead she just seemed amused.

"Of course, I'm just a pretty face, Caesar. Just wait for the Games to start. Then you'll see that I have both the beauty and the brains that most girls just don't have," Sequin replied, with a roll of her violet eyes and a tap of her small foot.

"Now, can we please have on stage, Trista Angel!" The host called out, and I smiled at him as I took my seat. It was warm, but it wasn't pleasant, not really. It just reminded me of the lives I would have to end to win and go back home. Hopefully, though, it would be all worth it in the end.

"Now, Trista, have you lived up to your name so far? Are you really as angelic as you seem?"

_You would be an angel, Lily. My little Angel. _

"Depends on what you mean, Caesar," I said with a smile. Always seem happy, even if you're dying inside. But really, I was happy. I liked it up here, with the bright lights blinding my eyes and the feeling of soft plush velvet on my arms.

I felt...safe, even. More than I had for a long time.

"Good answer. So, you grew up in a foster home. How do you feel about that? Has it affected your life overall?" Oh yes, he had been told everything. He was hiding it well, pretending to be clueless about my past when he really knew probably more than even I did.

"It had. Like my little Lily," I replied, leaving everyone guessing as I finished my answer with a smile. _You would have a beautiful smile, Lily. _

"And who's Lily?" Caesar asked, playing dumb. I twiddled my thumbs, thinking about how I would phrase my reply. Finn would know what to say, he always did. But right now, I was in the Capitol and he was in District 2, probably watching my every move. The letters he had sent me were tucked in my draw at home, all unopened.

"My daughter. My dead daughter," I said, looking at my hands. They were painted a pretty silver, with gems stuck to the surface.

I concentrated on those as I was met with silence, both from the audience, my fellow tributes and the host. The timer rang, and I left as soon as possible.

_You would be brave, Lily. _

District 3: Mimi Madeline Lombardi 

Now, he scared me.

I was rarely scared of anything, like when Thomas couldn't pick up that tarantula, but I did with ease. I wasn't scared by things like that, but Floyd Barabe was someone you would be stupid not to fear.

"Now, Floyd, apart from yourself, is there anyone else you want to win the Games?" Caesar asked the tribute, and I backed slowly into the shadows. Instead, he would probably give a list of the tributes he wanted to die, consisting of 35 names.

"I don't even need to think about that Caesar. I am going to win, and anyone who thinks otherwise is wrong. Period," Floyd replied, with no hesitation in his voice.

He was as ready to kill as Thomas was ready to eat a whole tub of ice- cream.

"Isabella, why did you volunteer? And at such a young age, to you think you still have a chance against some of the older tributes?" The host asked the small girl, who was dressed in midnight blue with sequins decorating her outfit.

"I volunteered for the glory, Caesar. And of course I have even more of a chance against them. I'm Isabella Rose, for God's sake. I've been pegged as a victor from the age of five," the girl replied smugly, before taking her seat far too close to me for my liking.

The garden girl, as I called her anyway, was dressed in her favourite colour yet again - a sparkly pink dress. She had her trademark ruby necklace and matching ear rings on, and black high heels that wobbled slightly as she walked onto the stage.

"Tara, do you think the odds are in your favour?" The host asked the tribute, dabbing his forehead slightly with a damp cloth as the spotlight blared down on the two of them.

Tara rolled her eyes, and batting her eyelids said, "No comment. Next question?" It went on like this, always flipping her hair and smiling at the crowd. I breathed a sigh of relief as the so-called "innocent" girl walked of stage, being replaced by little Michael from our district.

"Michael, what would it feel like to return home to your family?"

"I would love to see Jason again, my little brother. He means everything to me, and I'm just always wondering what it will be like at home without me." I thought the tribute was going to cry then, but he held his tears in for his little brother.

"Mimi, come on up!" Caesar called, bringing me out of my trance. I had a little brother that meant the world to me too.

"How do you feel about being in the 28th Hunger Games?" The host asked me, and I smiled wryly at him. I crossed my legs and thought about my answer.

"Obviously, I would rather be safe at home with my family, but I'm here now; I can't change that. I just have to hope that I can make it out in one piece, and preferably alive," I replied, nodding my head. I was satisfied with my reply. Clever and confident was my angle, my mentor had told me.

"Of course. Now, what do you think of your fellow competitors?"

"A mix of emotions. Some of them are really nice people, some are going to be tough competition, and some sadly won't make it past the bloodbath. That's all I can really say." It was true. I just didn't know which category I fitted into.

Maybe none at all.

District 4: Storm Marlinfield 

It was hard to watch tributes go through the same process I had just a year ago, especially when I had a giggling, Hunger Games lover, Capitol girl draped over me. My breath caught in my mouth when I saw my life-long friend, Mylene, nervously fidgeting on stage, waiting for her moment in the spotlight, just like I had done.

"Morganna!" Caesar called, in almost the same way as he had called the name Storm or Casey. Just another day at work for him, interviewing tributes that would be dead in a few days.

"How do _you _feel about the tributes? Anyone you particularly like, or hate?" The host asked her, and I could see the malice rising like burning lava in her eyes.

_Don't think like that. _There were some memories I didn't want to explore right now.

"Let's just that there is one district not on my good side," Morganna said icily, and I almost wanted to pull my cousin away from her glare, even though it wasn't directed at my family member. The District 2 tributes, however, seemed unfazed as she turned her stare on them.

"Ahem, can we please welcome on stage, Perkele Fin!" Caesar called, attempting to break the ice that had formed in the atmosphere. "What's your strategy for the Games, Perry? Can I call you Perry?" The host asked the District 4 tribute, shuffling slightly in his seat. Today's tributes were obviously taking their toll on him.

"Eat, sleep, kill. Not much else I can do, is there?" He replied, keeping his tone tough but still making the ladies in the crowd, and my "girlfriend", swoon.

He winked at the cameras, sending giggles coming through the speakers and in my ears.

"Now, Mylene Frostblight!" A sucked in a bit of air when I saw her come on stage, a green blue dress rippling around her ankles, wearing my old token. It broke my heart to see it again. "Mylene, what's your goal in the Games? Are you going to follow in your cousin's footsteps?" Caesar asked her, and she lowered her crystal blue eyes.

"I want to show the Capitol that I'm not just a pawn in their Games, and that none of us deserve to be used. None of us," she said, choking a bit on the last sentence. Tears swam in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall; she never did.

"And how will you do that?" Caesar asked shakily, looking at the camera man anxiously.

"By standing by my fellow tributes, and winning, or dying, for them. They're people too."

Why, Mylene? Why did you just condemn yourself to my fate or something much worse? I was proud of my little cousin, and yet, I had a bad feeling. The same feeling I had before the love of my life died.

To stand by her fellow tributes, she had to pay.

* * *

Just a point about Storm - he isn't really in love with Mary, and really hasn't forgotten about poor Casey. So, please don't kill me Cody! Storm is the same person we know and love inside, but he has to act. We don't want another whipping, do we?

And thank you for the flaming marshmallows of fury, Marie, even though they aren't exactly necessary now. And thank you for the reviews; keep 'em coming!

*~Joy~*


	12. Interviews Part 2: I will win, for them

There are still 8 more districts... still 24 tributes faced with Panem... who will reveal all... and who will dare to defy the very people that stuck them in the Hunger Games? Ladies and gentlemen, let the Games begin. These are the interviews.

Main Characters: Kelby Fuse, Anya Rayne, Lacey Kalex, Rolf Cadomay (Including clips from ALL interviews Districts 5-9)

* * *

District 5: Kelby Fuse

"So, Keira May, how do you feel right now? Sitting in that seat, what is going through your mind?"

"Right now? Well, I'm thinking about how good that hot chocolate was." The crowd laughed, and I smiled slightly with them. Kiera: always bubbly, always laughing.

"But, to be honest, I know that whatever I do, I'll fight for my life, and in hope that I can taste hot chocolate again. That was one of the best things in my life," my district partner replied, making even serious and sad words sound happy.

Her buzzer rang through my ears, and she left her seat, letting someone else's head be put on the chopping block.

"Nico, what about you? Did you like the hot chocolate as much as your district partner?" Caesar asked the tribute, making the audience laugh again, making Nico shake himself. He smiled slightly, and replied solemnly,

"I don't know Caesar. I prefer tea, but, I don't like change. It's always been an issue."

I was kind of getting sick of smiling now, but I didn't mind. Every tribute had a different way of stealing the hearts of the Capitol. Me? I had different methods to stand out. It was only when I thought that, that I wondered if Nico had still been talking about hot chocolate, or if thoughts of his brother were still flitting through him jumbled mind. If they were, I didn't blame him for it.

"So, Kelby, what was it like leaving your son at home?" Of course, I had forgotten that Caesar knew everything about us.

"I can't imagine someone else watching him grow up without me. You are all monsters. If I die, you're going to take a boy's mother away from him. And if I survive, you're taking away 23 children from their families. How does this solve anything, make anything right?"

My buzzer sounded as I let out a sigh of relief. So, maybe if I didn't die in the Games, the Capitol were going to find some way to kill me afterwards, or my family, or my little boy who I just tried to protect. But none of that mattered, because that was only if I survived.

And, most likely, I wouldn't.

District 6: Anya Rayne 

Yawn. Sigh. Yeah, other tributes were fighting for their lives. Yeah, I knew I would do the same too, but did they have to be so _boring _about it? Surely someone could lighten up the atmosphere a bit, or I'd have to wait for my interview.

Which happened to be right now.

"Anya, what's it like preparing for the Games? Is it daunting?" Caesar asked me, and I crossed my legs as though pondering the answer. Of course, I already knew what I was going to say. I flashed my best shark-style smile, and replied,

"The Reapings are boring unless someone you know, or you, is reaped. The chariot rides aren't too bad, unless you're dressed as a test tube. The training is exciting, and basically the only thing that will actually keep you alive in the Games and had any point at all. The interviews... well, I haven't decided about them yet. We're only half way through."

I smiled again, just to prove an unsaid point. That point was that I was going in it to win it. No questions asked, no answers given.

"What do you think so far?" The host asked me, pressing me for another answer. I simply winked at him, saying,

"No comment. You'll just have to find out for yourselves." I left the stage, my dress swishing around my legs. I sat, or more like collapsed, onto my wooden seat, happy to be out of the limelight for a while. It was unfair that preparing for the Games was probably worse than the actual event.

"Wolf! Why do you think that you'll survive the arena?" Caesar asked my district partner, small and insignificant.

Sure, I didn't want him to die, but I knew that there was only a small chance that he'd survive the bloodbath. We had to be realistic in the Games, as my mentor constantly tells me.

"Why am I going to make it out?" The tribute flashed a mysterious smile at the cameras. "Why, to continue my lovely life back at six, with a lack of food and a starving family? Because... hmmm... just let me think for a moment... If anything, being in the Capitol, preparing for my death is better than dying. Ask anyone who knows and you'll get the same answer. So I'm going to make it out just to get home. Yeah, right."

Silence.

I didn't think that so many tributes were going to rebel, but here we were. At least 5 people making a public stand against the Capitol in the space of an hour.

"Ahem, may we please welcome on stage, Rosemary Angel!" The girl walked on stage, wearing a white, frilly dress and pale blue shoes. Was it just me, or did she never wear red? Maybe she wasn't one for symbolism.

"So, should I call you Rose, Mary or Rosemary?" Caesar asked the girl, who lifted her head high enough for me to see her greenish, greyish eyes.

"Rosemary will be fine, Caesar," she answered, a sad tone to her voice. Maybe Nicole had called her Rose or something.

"What's life like without your sister? Do you think that you're going to follow in her footsteps?"

"If you mean, will I keep my dignity and not change for the Games, then yes, I will follow in her footsteps. If you mean, will I die, then hopefully not. I want to survive, for her. She would've wanted me to fight for me and my family, nobody else. Not for your Games.

I will win, for them."

District 7: Lacey Kalex

I braced myself as Somber walked onto the stage in a green/black dress and green tints in her dark hair, looking more confident than I had ever been, inside at least. Maybe she was lying through her teeth like me; if so, she would be fierce competition.

She had a determined look in her eye, which had been present throughout the Games. I thought I saw a hint of sadness hidden in their hazel depths, but I blinked and it was gone.

"Somber, how do you feel about going into the Hunger Games arena? Are you confident?" The host asked her, tilting his head curiously. He too wondered what her story was, how she was really feeling. The thing is, good actors are supposed to know another actor.

But right now, I wasn't so sure.

"Of course, Caesar. I have the means to win; I just need to use them to my advantage." She smiled, cool and determined as always, and crossed her legs elegantly. I thought she really believed she could win, but her head wasn't in the clouds.

Yes, that was it.

"Now, will Derek please come on stage?" Caesar called out, brandishing his hand to the row of tributes. I knew what angle dear old Derek would play; himself. Kind, polite, outgoing. They say eyes are the window to the soul, and his mouth is the door.

"What would you do if you won the Games, Erik? Can I call you Erik?" The host asked the tribute, throwing questions at him like knives I had seen other tributes handle.

"Erik's good. I would try to make a better life for my friends and family; they deserve it." Derek replied, smiling sadly at the audience. The Capitol would love his good-boy persona, I was sure.

"Thank you, Derek. Please welcome on stage Lacey Kalex of District 7!"

"Who's waiting for you at home?" Caesar asked me, and I shuffled around nervously. Daren's face popped into my head, and I smiled as bravely as was possible at that point in time.

"My twin brother, Daren. He's all I have, and if I win the Games, the only one I have to worry about. If we're finally safe and not starving, we can be happier. I love him more than anything; we're all each other has left," I answered, not letting tears brim in my eyes. That would help nobody.

"What about your parents, relatives?" The host asked, pressing me even more for answers.

"I don't know," I said honestly, spreading my hands in a "What can you do?" action. "We were left at the orphanage with nothing. We've just learnt to accept that that's all we're going to ever understand."

District 1: Rolf Cadomay 

"May we please welcome on stage, the first tribute of District 8, Kendal Resista!" A girl in a red and orange dress approached the stage from our row of tributes.

"So I hear you don't have any-" Caesar started, before bursting into a coughing fit, giving Kendal the time to answer.

"No, I don't have any socks at the moment." She raised her eyebrow and her shoe to show the audience that she indeed didn't have any socks on. They cracked up laughing, even though it wasn't all that funny. Oh well; at least the District 8 tribute might have some sponsors.

Good luck with that, I thought.

"So, Charlie, your mother died in childbirth with your sister, Stella. That must have affected your whole life, leaving you to look after your father and sister. It must have been so hard to know that if it wasn't for your sister, you would have been a happy family, just the three of you," Caesar told the tribute, nodding his head. He was obviously blowing the whole thing out of proportion, but the Capitol audience were lapping the story up.

"Oh no, I never think like that. My mother was a wonderful woman, and my sister is just a miniature her. I wouldn't swap Stella for the world." A set of ahhhs echoed around the room as the buzzer rang and Charlie Haven left the hot seat empty.

"Now, Schatten Tomar, or as some of us know, Shadow Girl!" Caesar called, greeting a black clad tribute from the other 35. Shadow Girl, yeah right. It was probably just beginner's luck that she survived.

"So, how did you survive the fire back in District 8, Schat?" The host asked her, and she smiled back mysteriously.

"I can't tell you all of my secrets, Caesar. I need to keep some to myself, at least. And anyway, they're trade secrets you're talking about. Highly classified." Mmhmm. Highly classifyed my emerald ring. I was sick already of the interviews, and we still had four districts to go.

Honestly, I felt sorry for Caesar.

The Capitol: Caesar 

Hair - check. Lipstick - check. Smile - check. Warm handshake - check.

This was the endless list I had to go through when every different tribute came on stage. Just to make sure I looked fine, and that they felt comfortable as they gave their final interviews. It was exciting to say the least, and I never got bored of them.

It was just who I was.

"Now, citizens of Panem, welcome Brook Callins!" I called, looking around for the 14 year old tribute. She looked so angry and sad, and I wondered why as she collapsed onto the plush velvet of the hotseat. I smiled warmly at her, shook her hand and smile at the camera again.

"Brook, you don't look so happy. Tell us why," I asked, mainly because I was just as curious as everyone else.

"I hate pink! I'm a tomboy, Caesar, and now they've tortured me!" She sounded as anguished that the crowd had to laugh at the dismay on her pale face. She smiled at them, as though she knew exactly what their reaction would be.

We had seen her type before; innocent, confident and mysterious. It happened a lot, especially with the 14 to 15 year old girls.

"Tristan! How are you?" I asked, my golden eye twinkling, I could tell. I liked him; he seemed kinder than the others.

"I'm okay, making it through," he replied shyly and quietly. I tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to bring out some other reaction other than fear. Unfortunately, he seemed unable to kill a spider, let alone a human being.

Poor boy.

"Next, we have Tanya Braeburn!" The audience clapped as the little 13 year old come on stage, her head bent and shoulders rounded. From the start, everyone had had her pegged as a bloodbath tribute. I noticed some scars on her shoulder, and the voice in my earpiece told me to ask about them. I had no idea where they had come from.

"Tanya, how are you feeling? Are you ready for the Games?" I asked her, trying to calm her nerves.

"No, I'll never be ready. I'm not ready, I'm not ready to die," she sobbed. I couldn't do anything to comfort her before they cut the camera saying there was short break before we would be joined by the first tribute of District 10.

The thing was we will never know how she got scars on her shoulders. She'd die before she'd be able to tell us.

* * *

After that, thank you so much all of you for reviewing!


	13. Interviews Part 3: Life is an elevator

The final part before the Games begin... who will play their part well... what revelations will be known... afterwards... the elevator is a time to talk... so who's voice will be heard? Ladies and gentlemen, these are, the final interviews.

Main Characters: Mare Warrens, Samuel "Sam" Jacobs, Gisli Raylor, Sequin Allure, and Rosemary Angel.

* * *

District 12: Samuel "Sam" Jacobs 

It was torture, watching all of the other tributes tremble on the stage. All were trying their hardest; only some succeeded in being memorable. Now, it was up to District 10 to steal the spotlight. We had already had 27 interviews so far, so a lot of patience was wearing thin for the crowd.

"Now, please clap your hands together for Mare Warrens!" Caesar called, and a tall, slim 18 year old approached the red hot seat. She was shaking as well, with an innocent, pale face getting redder by the minute.

"So, Mare, what's your angle for the Games?" The host asked the tribute, who shuffled nervously.

"Just be myself," she murmured, looking out at the bright flashing lights of the cameras with a look of contempt.

"And who's that?" Caesar pressed, leaning forward in his seat like he always did at the promise of gossip.

"Quiet. Innocent. Shy. Underestimated," Mare replied, her expression not changing as her gaze flickered over the audience. The buzzer rang out, the quiet tribute left her seat and returned to our row.

"Now, may we please welcome Ashton!" Caesar announced, and Ash himself stood up and approached the host, a wide grin on his face. I knew him well enough to know that that grin was not arrogance, rather, just nervousness.

"I hear you have a big family, Ashton, but how big is it really?" Caesar asked my friend, this time leaning backwards in his seat to get a good look at the tribute while he answered. He was probably reading Ash's body language or something; I had heard that Caesar was good at analysing people like that.

"Pretty big. My parents are Rima and Tanner, and then I have 6 siblings: Eva is 17, Diana is 14, Aimee and Sable, the twins, are 13, Griffin is 12 and Fauna is only 9. And I'm 15, so there's 9 of us in the family," Ash said with a confident grin, spreading his hands in a "What can you do?" gesture.

"Next up is Cori Wren Harlow!"

A girl in a blue dress came on stage, smiling sadly as she did so. Her make-up made her look fierce and beautiful all at once as she waved to the cameras and sat down as the 29 tributes had before her.

"How do you feel about being in the Games? Are you excited?"

"Mhm, very excited. But then, again, who wouldn't be when getting ready for their death?" She flashed a smile that made the crowd laugh nervously. After that revelation, she laughed and made easy banter with Caesar, seeming very relaxed and good on camera.

"Now, we have on stage Azalea Rose Calloway!"

The small 13 year old from District 11 made her way onto the stage, not smiling at all. She sat down on the seat cautiously, as though putting too much pressure on the chair would make it explode, taking her with it.

"How are you coping? Do you think you still have a chance to win against some of the older tributes?" Caesar asked her, smiling reassuringly, although to her it probably looked like a shark smiling evilly before it ate you whole.

"I think I have a chance. I may be young and small, but I strategy, I'm smart. The Games aren't over for me yet," she replied, nodding as she did so.

She left the stage as her timer rang out, signalling for the next tribute to face the host.

"Ruse! How do you feel about the other tributes? I hear that you're in a pretty big alliance," Caesar asked him, nodding appreciatively. Ruse turned his hand side-ways in a so-so motion, making the crowd laugh. The tribute laughed with them.

"I guess I am. Don't get me wrong, they're all pretty good fighters, but if it came down to fighting them... they wouldn't stand a chance," he smiled, showing that this was a joke, not mattering if he actually believed it or not.

"And now we have Annaliese Konra! Come on up, Anna!" The host called, and that tribute came onto the wooden platform.

I knew, for a fact, that Ash had a crush on her. I didn't blame him because she was pretty, or as he would say, pretty hot. Gold, bronze hair and big emerald eyes, and she was wearing a simple white dress with golden leaves decorating the fabric.

"How do you look at life, Anna? What do you think these Games will do to change yours?"

"A lot of people say that life is like a box of chocolates, but I disagree. With chocolates, you can always tell what each one is because you learn which one is which. No, I think life is like an elevator. You keep going; it keeps going, no matter what. You can push the emergency button but life only stops for a moment. These Games will change that, because they're not just an emergency button. They are someone at the controls fully stopping the ride, and making sure that it doesn't start going again. But that's just life, isn't it?"

Yes, that's just life in Panem. An elevator with someone at the controls, stopping it forever.

District 12: Gisli Raylor 

It was strange, the amount of people obviously rebelling in their interviews. Most of the time it was done in secret, or people realised they couldn't do anything and they learnt to move on. But people's views were different. Take the careers. They want to kill, they've trained their whole lives to be here, in this moment. Take me or most other people in the other districts.

We never wanted to be here, we just want to return home to our families, finally safe.

"Next up we have Marta Wren Harris!" Caesar's nervous voice bought me out of my trance, and I looked towards the new tribute coming onto the stage. She was wearing a grey silk dress with a sweetheart neckline, I recalled from my mother's garments.

"So, Marta, what's your strategy for this year's Games?" The host asked her, still smiling. I honestly wondered if he had had his signature smile surgically planted onto his face. If not, his muscles must really be hurting by now.

"Strategy, Caesar? What strategy?" She asked, a mysterious look in her eye. She smiled, before her buzzer rang out and that mysterious girl left the stage. She was alright, as a district partner, I supposed. Not an ally, but not exactly a threat.

"Now, please welcome, Samuel, or Sam, Jacobs!" Caesar called happily, eager to break away from rebellious tributes yet again.

"Sam, why do you want to get home? Do you think you can make it back?" The host asked him, smiling slightly as he did so. He knew something, or rather, the voice in his earpiece did. He tapped it slightly with another knowing smile.

"I have to get home, to see my son," Sam replied, earning gasps across the crowd and some tributes. He smiled mischievously.

"So I take it there's a lucky lady back in District 12?" Caesar pressed, smiling just as mischievously. Eww, I didn't want to know the details of this conversation, thank you very much.

"Technically, it's not my baby. It's my best friend's, who's not exactly right in the head, some would say. A jerk tried to take advantage of that, and so in two months, I get to be a surrogate father to a little boy," Sam replied, a single tear running down his face. He wiped it hastily away and composed himself.

"Luna's naming him Sam. After me," he whispered, waving happily and yet a little sadly at the cameras as they focused and zoomed in on him.

"After that lovely story, may we please welcome Gisli Raylor onto the stage?" I took in a deep breath, like my brother before me, and approached the crowd, literately shaking in my shoes. I smiled as bravely as I dared, and sat down on the red chair.

Ha, so symbolic. The Capitol really did think of everything.

"How are you coping? What does it feel like to follow in your brother's footsteps once more?" Caesar asked me, and I struggled not to roll my eyes. This had been the one question I was hoping to avoid throughout the interview, but it seemed as though luck was against me at the moment.

"I feel absolutely terrible. With Eko gone... I can't get close to anybody. It hurts me to admit that, but I know it's true. Eko played a big part in my life, and now he's gone.

The only thing I can try to do is stay alive, for him at least."

District 6: Rosemary Angel 

The elevator screeched to a stop at District 3's floor, letting Michael and Mimi out and into their soft, Capitol beds.

Beside me was Gisli Raylor and Mylene Frostblight, the only other people in the elevator. I was surprised that nobody else had used this one, but most had gone for the bigger elevator at the other end of the corridor. And so, it was just the three of us.

The doors to the elevator didn't close straight away, and so I pushed the button. Nothing happened. Mylene pressed it harder, but still, they did not budge.

There was a flicker of light in the entrance to the D3's corridor, something more than a bulb flashing. I looked to my fellow companions in the elevator, and reluctantly we all crept forward and out of the metal doors. They slammed shut behind us, and it began to move again.

We were trapped.

Gisli screamed, pointing at one of the doors, leading supposedly to a bedroom. There, three figures were standing. All glowing, all obviously not human. Their screams echoed in my ears, but only one caught my attention. Only one voice above the others made my blood freeze and sent a shiver down my spine. Nicole's angelic voice.

Mylene was the only one of us not screaming, but of course, she had had no siblings in the past Games. She approached one figure, or more chillingly, ghost. It stopped screaming and tilted its head to the side, studying the District 4 tribute with an air of curiosity.

Mylene stretched out her hand, but it went through the ghost easily, like she wasn't there. "Storm's told me a lot about you," they whispered together, small smiles appearing on their faces.

Casey Ellison's voice was light and musical, like something not truly real. The other ghosts were still screaming, staring at their siblings, at me. An alarm bell rang through the building, and Eko and Nicole stopped screaming.

They both vanished, causing Gisli and I to cry and scream even harder.

_Breach in Sector 3. All guards report immediately. Breach in Sector 3. _A voice echoed in my ears, coming from the speakers all around the hallway. Dead Casey looked intently at all three of us, panicked in her ghostly, faraway voice.

"Be safe. Don't let them hurt you," was all she said, before she too faded away like the ghosts from 6 and 12. What was happening? People surely can't come back from the dead... can they?

"They've escaped! The experiments... they're gone!" A man's voice screeched over the voice of the intercom.

_Breach in Sector 3. Escaped experiments. Begin lockdown._

District 1: Sequin Allure 

"Floyd," I whispered, as soon as we reached the floor of District 1. The District 2 tribute looked at me, and I smiled maliciously back. I leant forward, and whispered a plan into his ear. He nodded, and took my hand.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I held back. There would be cameras in the elevator.

He bent down and kissed me fully on the lips. I giggled like a little girl, and pretended to blush as I walked away from my "boyfriend". Maybe some strategies had some upsides after all.

* * *

After that, thank you so, so much for reviewing! Oh yes, the Games are about to begin!


	14. Bloodbath Part 1: We were 30

All things aside... none of these tributes want to die... but whose wish will be granted... who will fall for the last time... whose blood will scatter the arena once and for all? Ladies and gentlemen, this is the bloodbath. Let these Games begin.

Main Characters: All.

* * *

Got to keep fighting. Got to stay alive. Got to make it out alive. I have to win, I have to win. Got to keep fighting, even if I'm only inches away from death.

I looked left and I looked right. Beside me was Sam from 12 and the insane Trista from 2. An ally, and an enemy. The Games hadn't even started yet, and the odds were already in my favour. I smiled a shark-like grin at the person opposite me, but I didn't remember her name. Callie or something like that. Her eyes met mine, determined and frightened. I lifted up my head and winked.

I was Sequin Allure, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, trying to see where she was. Beside me were that 17 year old girl from Twelve and the career from Two. Maybe not the best luck of the draw, but it would have to do. She was too far away from me for me to look after her, but I knew she could make it through on her own. Who thought that I would fall for someone not even from the Town?

I was Rolf Cadomay, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, and groaned. In between two male, big careers; I didn't stand a chance. I lifted my head as high as I dared, attempting to appear braver than I felt. Opposite me was the 13 year old career, the one smirking at me with an evil glint in her grey eyes.

I was Michael Rubins, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right and grinned widely, more than I had in days. Next to me were the two weaklings from 3 and 5. I eyed the variously wrapped shapes over by the cornucopia, and if anything, my smile widened. This would be even easier than I thought.

I was Perkele Fin, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, but I figured my chances were roughly the same as they were when I was first Reaped. I was in between the mother from Five and the girl from Three. Not too bad, I supposed. I would have to fight my way towards the presents, but hopefully it would all be worth it.

I was Morganna Ren, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, trying to stay level headed as I did so. I was stuck between a career and the other weakling from 5. The girl opposite me looked as scared as I felt, but I couldn't show my feelings. I had to stay strong, for Steath.

I was Nico O'Malley, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, but despite not being near too many careers, I still felt my heart sink. All of the tributes were bigger than me, faster, fiercer, deadlier. I didn't stand a chance, but I had to try. I no allies to help me; I was on my own.

I was Wolf Spanes, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, and shrugged. On one side was my ally, the other was a girl I had never spoken to, Sandy or something. Kendal was on the other side to her, and I nodded as I motioned to the golden horn. As our group was one of the fastest alliances in the Games, we prepared ourselves for the fight.

I was Anya Rayne, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, and tried to work out my odds. I was next to Derek, who had a pretty big alliance. There was no point in going after him unless he was going after me. On my other side was Tristan, but I didn't want to hurt him either. Both seemed too nice to try and kill - try being the appropriate word.

I was Charlie Haven, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, looking for Sam and Anna. Sam was only one person away from me, and he smiled when he caught me looking. We both knew what the plan was; Anna, standing opposite Samuel, was not factored into that plan.

I was Ashton Samuels, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, figuring out where my allies were. Luckily, Gisli was beside me and grinning widely. Somber and Azalea looked too far away for me to help, and Ashton was almost opposite me. But I couldn't think about that, I had to think of surviving.

I was Annaliese Konra, tribute in the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right and my heart fell as Mylene did the same. My little cousin - in the Games. My best friend, condemned to death. Marylin squealed and turned the wide-screen television onto full volume. Amelia rolled her eyes, but didn't protest like I wanted to. Didn't, and would never, rebel like I wanted to.

I was Storm Marlinfield, victor of the 27th Hunger Games. I was Storm Marlinfield, viewer of the 28th Hunger Games.

I looked left and right, watching the whole circle of 36 tributes, all nervous and all raring to go. Blood was about to be spilt... on a multi-coloured arena. There were four obvious sections; winter, summer, spring and autumn. All of the tributes were dressed in black, so the District 12 competitors were in their comfort zone. The girls had black dresses on and the boys had just simple jackets and trousers. This was obviously more for the crowds' benefit than the tributes'. As the tributes watched each other, some with evil looks in their eyes, some with frightened stares, I breathed in deeply.

I was Amelia Airhate, viewer of the 28th Hunger Games.

We are 30. We were once 36. We kept fighting, we tried to make it out alive, we tried to win. We were inches away from death. And then six of us died. We are 30. We were once 36. This is how six of us were murdered by our friends, our fellow tributes. This is our story.

* * *

This is just a starter chapter, so don't worry, there are still two more bloodbath chapters to go! I didn't do all of the tributes, just the ones directly related to the bloodbath... I'll leave you to guess who will make it out alive!


	15. Bloodbath Part 2: Carnage

They started off as 36... but soon only 30 will remain... who will lose their lives... who's friend, ally will betray them... in the bloodbath of the 28th Hunger Games? Ladies and gentlemen, let the bloodbath, begin.

Main Characters: Like I'm going to tell you. That would give the Game away ;)

* * *

District 1: Sequin Allure - 0 hours into the Games (started at 2pm)

60 seconds. I was a career; I had trained my whole life for this moment, this moment of glory in the spotlight. Tick, tock. 56 seconds to run. I met the eyes of every tribute, both friend and foe, my gaze never wavering. Tick, tock. 53 seconds left. 52 seconds until the gong sounded, the blood was spilt.

51 seconds. Waiting, waiting.

It was frustrating for me, watching the other tributes around the circle. Some were raring to go like me, others were nervous and fidgety. But most, like the weaklings, were scared out of the minds; and really, they had every right. This year, as careers, we were more menacing than ever before seen.

45 seconds. We would really give the Capitol a show, and a victor, to remember. And that worthy winner would be me.

I was standing next to Trista from 2. She was completely insane from what I knew, but a career nonetheless. And that meant my ally. 37 seconds. I nodded at her, and then motioned to the cornucopia, glinting in the bright, warm sunlight. The two of us exchanged a knowing glance, and prepared ourselves to run head-first to the golden horn.

33 seconds.

Tick tock. 31 seconds left. I sighed, and resisted the urge to run off my plate and towards the various weapons scattering the cornucopia, and being blown up in the process. 27 seconds. Time was going too slowly for me, and I could almost hear the clock ticking in my head, counting down. 24 seconds.

That girl from 10 was opposite me - I never could remember her name, but I didn't see the point in names. They didn't mean anything to me, just an inconvenience. Why learn names when you could remember simply if they were worth killing or not? The weaklings would probably die off on their own, but the strong ones were a threat. That's what we were taught to learn, not what people's parents call them.

I didn't want to know about children who were going to die's families.

15 seconds left.

I could feel my heartbeat racing at the promise of a fight, of something worth fighting for. I looked around at the other tributes yet again, picking out which ones were obvious targets and bloodbath candidates, the threats and people not worth killing. 4 seconds until the bloodbath began.

Tick tock. That was the gong. All I had to do was run, and survive. 0 seconds left.

District 3: Michael Rubins - 0 hours, 30 minutes 

That was it; the trigger to start the bloodbath. I was running, as fast as my legs could carry me and away from the arena. I stumbled on some unexpected snow, and looked up to find a shadow hovering over me. I scrambled away but a high-heeled boot secured me to the ground.

I shuffled and yelled, trying to free myself from the career's hold on my shirt. But there were no allies coming to my rescue any time soon, and I knew that.

Sequin Allure grinned as somebody; her ally maybe, flicked a knife across the floor and towards her outstretched hand. She picked up the weapon from the grassy ground, and I looked at her grinning reflection. There was no point in begging for mercy; I knew for a fact that careers didn't do mercy.

She smiled down at me, dangerous and provocative in her sleek black outfit. I gulped and she drew the knife close to my cheek. I turned my head away, breathing heavily. This just made her smile more. She sliced my skin with the dagger, making me cry out. Blood poured from the wound, but I couldn't hold it in.

Heels were still pinning me to the floor.

Sequin turned and did a symmetrical line on the other cheek, so even more blood poured from my face. She carried on like this, drawing and cutting gashes into my body. Eventually she finished carving my forehead as I cried and screamed.

My brain wasn't working correctly anymore, and I begged. I begged for a career to let me live, for the pain to stop.

I saw my reflection in her knife as she held it up for me to see. My face was covered in thick, sickly blood. The things that stood out to me most were the deep cuts on my forehead. They formed one word, one word more powerful than any other that she could've written.

"Not so pretty anymore are you? You never were in the first place, though," Sequin spat, but that word echoed around and around in my head. She threw the knife on the floor beside me, teasingly just out of my reach. I didn't stretch to try and touch it; my arms were ruined, leaving me immobile.

The girl from District 1 with an angelic smile was just going to leave me to bleed to death, with that one word scraped into my forehead. It span in my mind, my last thought.

As the world turned black, that word was the last thing I remembered.

_Loser._

District 4: Morganna Ren - 1 hour

The cornucopia was my goal, and I was determined to get there. I sprinted across the bloodbath, ignoring the cries of anguish on either side, their screams filling my ears. My eyes were on the prize; a gleaming knife sitting on top of a pile of valuable weapons.

Once I had it within my reach, I let out a sigh of relief, echoing one from beside me. The boy from 5 was holding a similar knife in his hand, panting slightly as he slowly turned his head towards me. At exactly the same time we leapt at each other, knives clashing, and metal vibrating as we fought.

He was taller than me, but I was an older, trained career.

So, I hadn't joined the career pack, but I was still a career, I had the same training as they did. Maybe I didn't want to kill, but I wanted to get home. I wanted to see my family again, and these 35 tributes were standing in my way.

"Give up already," he growled, but I didn't let go, and neither did he. His knife cut across my arm, slicing into my flesh, the blade blunt. I screamed, but turned to him with a new fury in my eyes. I fought harder and faster, picking up the pace of our dance, because that's what we were doing. We were partners in a dance, circling each other and pouncing at the same time. Perfectly in time with the person we wanted to kill.

Then, we both knew that it was going to happen.

Nico O'Malley's eyes widened, but he didn't move, didn't try to block my fatal blow. He knew exactly what was going to happen, but he didn't move. That was exactly what made me gasp as I plunged my weapon into his heart.

"No!" I cried, as his body fell against mine, knocking my off of my feet. He was gasping for breath, unable to fill his lungs. He looked at me, bright blue eyes boring into mine. He knew that he would join his brother very soon, but the thought didn't comfort me, so I doubted that it helped him.

"Why? Why didn't you move?" I whispered, unable to form other words. Maybe I didn't want to know the answer, but I had to know, had to find out.

But Nico closed his eyes before he answered me, and the firing cannon was my only answer.

District 6: Wolf Spanes - 1 hour, 30 minutes

"I'm walking on sunshine," I sung, trying to occupy my mind as I darted past the other tributes, trying to get as close to the cornucopia as I could. I entered the spring section of the arena, and stopped. A bow and arrow sat proudly on top of the big pile, and I ran I quickly as I could, which wasn't all that fast.

I heard footsteps behind me, and whipped around. There stood my district partner, arm raised, sword in hand. She swung it forwards, and I scrambled away as she tried to strike again.

I looked up at her in bewilderment.

"I want to go home, Wolf," Anya said simply, swinging the sword high again. I dodged her blow, but only just. The blade had cut through the fabric of my jacket sleeve.

"I'm your district partner! We... we sat next to each other on the train!" I yelled in confusion; why would someone betray their friend? I wanted to go home too, but even that was too low for me, but obviously not for Anya. The sword sliced through the air, narrowly missing my leg.

"I'm a very good actress," was all she told me, before she raised her sword a final time. I felt it pierce my stomach, and doubled over from the pain. She struck again, and the blade ran through my side, probably striking a kidney on the way. One by one, her sword cut through my organs before I collapsed onto the ground.

"You were my friend," I whispered, defeated.

I looked up, trying to see my killer, but she had already fled my body and the crime scene. I looked down at my holey body, and my last thought was that I looked like a piece of Swiss cheese.

District 8: Charlie Haven - 2 hours

I was trying as hard as I could to do the opposite of what the other tributes were going; running towards the cornucopia. I wanted safety, somewhere to hide and wait out the rest of the day. But that wasn't going to happen as somebody grabbed the collar of my black shirt.

My voice cried out, but the person just dragged me backwards, pulling me to the ground.

A sword slammed down beside me as I barely rolled over and missed the blade. It cut through the autumn leaves, leaving nothing but broken foliage behind it. My eyes were wide as the samurai sword came down again.

I scrambled to my feet and faced my opponent. Rolf smiled at me, genuine and cruel. I started to run, but his hand caught my throat. Slowly, he started to squeeze.

I tried so hard to break free, and I did, for a while.

Eventually both of our hands were wrapped around the others throat, neither daring to let go. I could feel my face redden as I gasped for breath, just like Rolf was doing. Neither of us would be able to hold out much longer.

Then, something in my peripheral vision soared past Rolf's ear, and towards me. I tried to duck, but the tip of the arrow dug into my head.

Feeling the blood run down the side of my face, I collapsed to the ground, watching Rolf rub his neck carefully. Blood drained into my eyes, making the world turn a deep red.

I looked up for the last time to see the career staring into the distance at a figure holding a bow and arrow. She, whoever she was, smiled vaguely, and pressed her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss to me. I heard her laugh as I faded away and into the darkness.

District 4: Perkele Fin - 3 hours

After reaching for the trident, I held it high; finally, something I could really fight with.

I heard movement behind me, and turned to see a girl holding a blunt axe, testing the weight of it in her hands. She looked up in surprise to see me standing almost next to her, my trident ready to kill.

She yelped and dropped her weapon, giving me the opportunity to kick it as far away as I could.

I smiled like a shark catching its prey, and just as I threw my weapon, she dodged the blow, screaming as she did so. It hit the snowy ground, vibrating with the force of my throw. I retrieved it just as the girl from District 11 picked up her axe. We faced each other, neither of us wanting to make the first move.

Suddenly, her axe lodged itself into my arm, and I yelled out in pain. I hastily pulled out the weapon and threw it onto the floor, stained with my blood.

I snapped my head towards her, knowing she was now defenceless and I had a new anger to fuel me.

My trident easily plunged itself into her chest, causing her to stumble unevenly, looking down in shock at the weapon lodged into her body. She fell onto her knees, blood pouring over her fingers as she clutched the trident with both of her hands. Her mouth formed a perfect "o" as her eyes turned glassy.

I stood there, beaming at my kill, listening as her cannon fired loud in my ears. I started laughing like a maniac, but I had no idea why. Maybe my first kill had given me some sort of high, realising that I definitely had a chance of winning the Games now.

That's when I felt an arrow in my back.

There was a yell as somebody came out behind me and pulled the weapon from my body, letting the blood flow freely. Somebody stood above me, but his face was an a silhouette in the sunlight.

"You'll pay for that," the voice said, readying his bow and arrows and firing another one straight into my heart. I gasped, not comprehending how one minute I could be laughing as I killed another tribute, and the next gasping for breath as blood trickled from my open lips.

The world faded to a hazy grey, and my green eyes fluttered shut. So much for winning.

District 12: Marta Wren Harris - 5 hours

I sat in the summer area of the arena, watching as various hovercrafts came to take the bodies away. There was blood everywhere, and I honestly wondered how they would clear it all up, or if they would leave it. There was so much blood one year that they transported the tributes to another arena.

"Not likely today," I whispered to myself, looking out from the arena. I had climbed into a tree and was waiting there. I had only a knife in my possession, seeing as there were no other supplies at the cornucopia. The Gamemakers were being hard on us this year, making us rely fully on our sponsors, if we had any.

Six people had died today. We are now 30, but we were once 36.

I had run towards the cornucopia and back in record time, trying to stay away from the various fights that had erupted in the battlefield of the 28th Hunger Games arena.

Those six faces appeared in the sky, like angels looking down at us. First appeared the boy from 3, but we had all known, even him, that he wouldn't' make it. Surprisingly, the boy from 4 had died; careers never died in the bloodbath. Then came the boys from 5, 6 and 8 and the girl from 11. That was also strange, because it had looked like Annaliese had some fight in her, but obviously it wasn't most beliefs, the girl from 9 had survived, whereas we all had her pegged as a bloodbath candidate.

Overall, there were still 29 people that had to die for me to survive, and I didn't know if I was ready to have their blood on my hands. I didn't know if I would ever be ready, as I looked at the carnage that the other tributes had caused.

Because that was all that was left; carnage.

* * *

Don't you just love that word, carnage? Anyway, I hoped you loved this chapter as much as I loved writing it! I stayed up til midnight last night because I went on a writing spree, unbeknownst to my parents, of course.

Now, may we please have a moment of silence for those lost in the dreaded bloodbath; Michael Rubins, Nico O'Malley, Wolf Spanes, Charlie Haven, Annaliese Konra and Perkele Fin, three of which were my characters. I'm very sorry if I killed your tribute off, but remember, these Games are my life now. I love these tributes probably more than you do.

Here Question Istillcan'tremember: What were Yoko's famous last words in the 27th bloodbath? 5 extra points if you can also tell me who her killer was... poor Yoko... falling on top of a career in training is seriously not the way to go.


	16. Bloodbath Part 3: The point in heaven

Now they know who faced Death and lost... but what will the consequences be... whose guilt will...kill them? Ladies and gentlemen, let the final moments of the bloodbath and the repercussions of people long dead, begin.

Main Characters: Mare Warrens, Sequin Allure, Isabella Rose, Derek Tyras and Cori Wren Harlow.

* * *

District 10: Mare Warrens - 10 hours into the Games (12 PM)

I was silent as I swirled the various paints onto my arms and legs; my black outfit was virtually invisible in the dark night sky.

Most people, like that Sequin or Floyd, wouldn't see the point in being sent a parachute full of points and various camouflage tools, and would probably fly into a tantrum aimed at their mentors. But I knew that this was the best thing she could give me, because it was my strength.

My mentor was doing the best thing she probably could; she was trying to keep me away from the fights.

So, I had woken myself up at least two hours ago, and now I figured we had been in the arena for about 10 hours by now. I had begun to paint and hide myself in the dense forests of the spring part of the arena.

The bright greens and deep browns on my body were beautiful, but I furiously mixed the colours, trying to let out all of those emotions and feelings into my work.

Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone and survive because of it in the process.

Just as I finished, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. Thoughts flitted through my head as I tried as hard as I could to reel in the emotions that threatened to take hold of me. I shrugged off the feeling to scream and leant back, my head just resting on the bark of the tree behind me. I just hoped that I really did blend into my background.

I heard a thunder of footsteps and loud voices, voices of people who obviously didn't care whether or not they were caught. And there was only one word for people like that in the Hunger Games; careers.

I closed my eyes again and thought only of blending into the background, of becoming invisible.

"Well, who do you think we should kill?" A snotty, bitchy, loud voice asked. Sequin Allure brandished her manicured hands and planted an annoyed expression onto her face. But I knew that the halo on top of her head was held up by the devil horns underneath.

I could almost hear the small girl career roll her eyes. "Don't get too excited, Quin. We wouldn't want to break a nail actually _thinking, _would we?" Isabella's sarcastic voice replied.

If she wasn't a career and a cold-hearted killer, I might've actually liked her. But she was, and therefore she wasn't my friend.

Obviously, queen witch couldn't think of a reply, so just lifted her head and sniffed in that way that spoiled people do. They all started forwards again, when Floyd, the big one, held out a hand. They were standing only a few metres away.

I held my breath, hoping against hope that he had just heard a squirrel.

He turned on his heel, and sniffed the air; literately. It was as though he could smell my fear, but I had heard rumours that some careers actually could. I hadn't believed it, until now.

Tara, the girl from 3, walked up beside him. She cocked her head and looked exactly where I was. None of them had flashlights, thankfully, but I could see the whites of their eyes through the darkness. Sequin joined at Floyd's other side, and stared at the tree I was leaning against.

"I think we have a guest," Sequin murmured, and with a quick, lethal jab of her hand she grabbed my neck. I couldn't see her, but I knew that the shark smile was on her face.

Very carefully, she drew her hand away, and told me, "I'm giving you a chance at living. Fight me, Warrens." Unfortunately for me, it was an offer I couldn't resist.

District 2: Isabella Rose - 10 hours and a half 

I wanted to scream at the girl from 10 to say no and let one of us kill her quickly.

Luckily for her, she hadn't seen Quin kill Michael. But I kept silent, partly because I wanted to see a fight; partly because I wanted to win, and mostly because I would probably die painfully and horribly in Mare's place.

"Offer accepted," the girl whispered, but she had no weapon. Sequin had her knife, which may not seem like much, but I had seen what she could do with that knife. And like her, it wasn't pretty.

They backed away from each other, and we watched. Floyd, I knew, was itching to join the fight, but held back.

It was interesting to watch, because it was obvious that Sequin wasn't putting her all into the fight. Instead, she liked to play with her food. They almost danced in a circle, and Mare's failed attempts at even touching Sequin were laughable.

"Give me your best shot," Sequin mocked, standing with her hands wide and chucking her dagger onto the dark, grassy ground. Mare leapt forwards, ready to knock the career off of her feet, before Floyd let his impulses and instincts take control, for once.

Ha.

He knocked the poor District 10 girl off of _her _feet, sending her flying and knocking her head on the tree she been hiding near. She fell to the floor, her blood slowly dripping down the side of her face. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, knowing that there were only 28 people left.

We are 29; we were once 36.

Floyd wrapped the D1 girl in a tight embrace, lightly kissing the top of her head. I gagged silently behind them as Trista tried not to laugh. Tara and Ivory looked less than impress, and scowled at me. Trista muttered something under her breath, that sounded like, "You would be loved, Lily." It was sweet and all that she thought of her daughter, but everybody knew she was more than a teeny tiny bit insane.

I finished gagging when Sequin's dark gaze turned on me and I gave her my signature, angelic smile.

"Thanks, honey-bun," Sequin cooed, leaning into Floyd for a kiss. If anybody actually believed their fake charade, they were most definitely stupid. Most of the Capitol thought they were together, then.

She giggled, in a way that implied she loved messing with Floyd, knowing that he couldn't kill her without losing most of his sponsors. That or she really was as vain and stupid as she looked. Probably the latter, knowing my ally.

Fortunately, I could read her like a book. She was also a book I was eager to finally put back on the shelf or lock away, never to be seen again. It was a book that liked to bite, and scare.

Definitely not a bed-time tale, and I never was one for horror stories.

District 7: Derek Tyras - 12 hours

"I swear, my mum was having an affair with the mayor, but nobody knew about it," Anya boasted, hand on heart. We all rolled our eyes, already used to her antics and stories. The five of us didn't really know why she was even in our alliance, but she was handy with a sword and knife. Hopefully, her pros made up for her cons.

"Mhm," Kendal murmured, sending ripples of laughter around the group, apart from Anya. She sat stony faced, watching the line of trees.

None of us knew why we chose to go to the autumn part of the arena, with the mild weather, but I guess it was because no one else would go here. Plus, there was a lot of tree cover, unlike the summer where it was all flowers and light.

There was a rustle in the orange and golden trees, and the giggles stopped. There was another movement in the branches, and cautiously we made our way around the corner.

"Where's my knife?" Anya yelled loudly, and we all shushed her, possibly just as loudly. We all moved quietly towards the bush. A girl sat huddled there, holding a knife in her fingers. She looked up in shock, and shuffled away.

"Hey! That's my knife!" The owner of the said knife accused, taking the weapon from Marta's hand. Marta watched everyone, her eyes wide and scared.

Ruse stepped forward, and asked menacingly, "Why are you here?"

"I... I was just..."

She looked so scared, like a deer in a headlight, I wanted everyone to back away and let her go. She wasn't a threat; I didn't see why we had to hurt her. Obviously, some of my allies didn't feel the same way.

"Wrong answer," Ruse said, moving forwards. I only then realised that he was holding an evil looking scythe, which I'm sure he knew exactly how to use.

"No, please! I only took the knife; you don't need to kill me! I'll leave now, just let me leave," she sobbed, her eyes swimming with tears that had begun to fall. I moved forwards to put my hand on Ruse's shoulder, to hold him back, but Kelby stopped me. She shook her head in a way that said it was best for her, to die now.

I knew, inside, that it was better than letting the careers hunt her down.

"Ruse," Keira May warned, but he still moved forwards. Poor Marta had no allies, and it was six against one; unfortunately for her, she didn't stand a chance. The scythe lashed out, and the District 12 girl collapsed onto the ground, a whimper just escaping from her lips.

The rest of my alliance didn't cheer like some would, just left the scene silently. I stayed there though, as Marta's cannon rang in my ears. I brushed back the hair from her face, and dried the tears on her cheeks.

It only seemed right.

I knew that if there was a heaven, Marta would go there without a doubt. She hadn't done anything wrong, apart from the bad luck of her name being drawn in the Reaping. It wasn't her fault.

And as I walked away from her body and heard the sound of a hovercraft, I knew that if I died, I'd rather just let it end. I'd rather leave the world altogether, and just welcome the darkness. No hell, no heaven. For what is the point in heaven, if you're constantly looking down at hell?

District 10: Cori Wren Harlow - 13 hours 

We, Mimi, Lacey and I, sat huddled together in the winter section on the arena. We didn't know why we chose the cold, deserted area, with barely any tree cover and no wood to make a fire. Maybe it was because nobody else would be there; they would be in the summer and spring sections, we supposed.

Maybe it was because this was where we felt most at home. I knew that Mimi, living in District 3, had seen a lot of snow in her life. Lacey probably hadn't seen much, but she, like me, loved the snow.

Yes, we slipped and stumbled all over the place, but at least we knew that when or if we died, we would be somewhere that we loved.

It was strange that how, after only a few conversations with them, I could probably trust those two girls with my life. And I did. And hopefully they felt the same way. It was strange how three girls, one from District 3, one from District 7 and one from District 10; one with auburn hair, one with brown and one with black, could ever be friends. But we were, and our bond was stronger than any of the careers, of any of that big group.

We were small, but at least we could trust each other more than they ever could.

I pulled my jacket collar more around my neck as Lacey fingered her knife and various darts, and Mimi secured her two daggers onto her belt. The night was deathly silent as we watched the line of the trees, ready for any attack.

I told the girls that I would keep watch whilst they slept, but really, I just wanted some time to myself. I had to think things through, really wonder if I could hurt the two girls I almost considered my sisters. I was almost as close to them as I was to Lucianna.

Thoughts about Lucy made me think of my home, of my District, of my family. I had to go home. But looking at my two sleeping friends, I just had to hope that their blood was never on my hands.

They deserved to go home too.

* * *

Can we please have another moment of silence for those lost in this chapter; Mare Warrens and Marta Wren Harris. Great tributes and I'm so glad I got to write Mare's PoV before I killed her. I love her view of Sequin and the careers, I'll miss her :( And Marta! May they rest in peace.

Please, please, please review, or I will send Sequin and Anya after you to cut out your organs and carve the word "idiot" on your forehead and then write it all over your bedroom walls with your own blood. Fun, fun, fun! Insert hair flick, flutter eyelashes, hip swaying walk away.


	17. The Chase Begins Part 1: Pull me down

The bloodbath is over... the repercussions are done with... aren't they? The alliances are safe... there are still 28 left in the Game... aren't there? Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show.

Main Characters: Azalea Rose Calloway, Mimi Madeline Lombardi, Tanya Braeburn.

* * *

District 3: Mimi Madeline Lombardi - 16 hours into the Games (6AM) 

It was my turn to watch, so I grudgingly left my spot curled on the ground, and sat by a big tree as Cori had done before me. Lacey promised she'd watch the next night, as we were awake until 3 AM, none of us really able to sleep.

After an hour of boringly watching the various trees, I shook awake my allies. We had no food, no supplies, no anything. Luckily, we had the snow to use for water, but nothing to really melt it with. We began by trying to melt it with the heat from our hands, but our fingers were blue before our dry throats were satisfied.

Stupid, really.

I wanted to scream to my mentor, Skylar, to send us a canteen of water, even an empty one. But I realised that we might not have any sponsors, any money to save us. We were alone.

"Well, it's just like a camping trip. Someone get the marshmallows," Cori joked, but Lacey looked at her blankly.

"What are marshmallows?" The two of us stared at her in disbelief. No marshmallows? I admit, I had only had them once, but I knew what they were! They were delicious.

"Never mind," Cori replied, and I stifled a laugh. We were like three girls having a sleepover, and that's what I commented to the others.

"What's a sleepover?" Lacey asked again.

I had just begun to explain about pillow fights and late-night stories when we heard a movement in the trees. Like animals running on the ground and through the trees. There was a loud thump, louder than any human could've made, and another, and another. Like... footsteps?

"Does anyone else hear that?" Cori whispered, looking at the two of us, both staring off into the distance.

Very slowly, Lacey rose from her space on the snowy ground. We followed her example carefully, the big footsteps still echoing in our ears.

"Do we run?" I asked, looking yet again at my allies. They was a loud, animal- like roar, and the girls nodded in fear. We took off sprinting, and all I could think was that we were lucky that we could all run quite fast. But it looked like that thing behind us could too. I let all thoughts leave my head apart from the instinct to survive, and that I could really do with a marshmallow right about now.

"Any idea what it is?" Lacey shouted to us, still running slightly ahead. I was about to answer no when a voice called out from behind us, sounding out of breath.

"I'm guessing a yeti-snow-monster-giant thing?"

I stopped running and turned around in shock, to find the young girl from District 11 sprinting. She caught up to us, breathing heavily.

"It's not going to help any of us if we stop to fight. It'll kill us all, and I'm guessing it likes the smell of blood!" Cori yelled, tugging me forwards. Lacey stumbled on the snow, and I pulled her back up again. Cori did the same on my other side, and I grabbed both of their hands, hoping against hope that they didn't pull me down with them.

District 11: Azalea Calloway - 17 hours

I heard voices ahead as I ran, but I couldn't exactly go a different direction, could I? There was a ten foot snow monster running, well, lumbering, behind me. I had almost caught up with the girl alliance, when I heard one ask what it was, and so I replied.

They turned around in shock, before we all began sprinting again.

Two of the girls kept stumbling, so the middle one, Mimi, grabbed their hands. I wondered if it would just cause all of them to topple onto the snow. I kept running behind them, almost along-side them now, when I heard another roar.

It was catching up with us now.

"Guys," I shouted to the people in front, but they seemed intent on running. I was going to tell them that I think that the big guy had friends, because I began to hear more footsteps up ahead. There was another roar, but not from the beast behind us.

"Oh, mini-marshmallows," Cori moaned, as Lacey had a confused expression on her face. She shook her head, and realised what her ally was talking about.

Just as I thought, there was another one in front of us, even bigger than the one who had just stopped chasing.

We all stood back to back, armed with nothing but some knives, darts and a bow. But Cori only had a few arrows, as I knew there were only 6 in the sheaths at the cornucopia. But having a common enemy brought us together, and we were determined to come out of the fight with 4 of us standing.

"Any ideas?" Lacey whispered, but we had nothing. The monsters came nearer, and Cori loaded her bow with an arrow, ready to shoot.

"Shoot it in the eyes," Mimi whispered to the girl holding the only truly valuable weapon. She looked at her ally, but complied. She pulled back on the string, and the tip landed in the creature's bright orange eyes.

"I wonder if it has coloured tattoos, too," Lacey joked, and we all stared at her. "You know, with the orange contacts? Oh, never mind."

We all turned our eyes back to the yeti monsters, who were getting nearer, their claws becoming painfully visible. Cori shot another arrow at the same beast, leaving it blind. She did the same with the other, but even though they couldn't see us, they seemed even more furious.

"I'm out of arrows," she cried, dropping her bow onto the ground, rendering it useless.

Lacey, however, seemed to have an idea. She looked up into the sky, and winked. Winked, in our situation. Her allies smiled, but I appeared out of the loop. Then, a silver parachute fell down from the sky.

The Capitol: Evannatt Eackala - 18 hours

I watched the screen eagerly, seeing how my mutts would deal with the four female tributes. I gasped as that girl from District 10 blinded my two creations, but smiled as she dropped her bow.

I grabbed a tuna sandwich that sat beside me and fiddled with the controls, stepping the game up a notch. Maristelale fingered her buttons as well, and in the arena, it began to lightly snow. The four tributes shivered, and the flakes got bigger and bigger. It felt like Christmas!

Then, the tribute from District 7 muttered something and winked at one of the cameras. I didn't know what was happening until a silver parachute landed at her feet.

"She's got sponsors," Icyiatus commented, pointing at the screen as Lacey carefully unwrapped the parcel, trying not to attract attention. There was a small, stick like object inside, one that I wasn't familiar with.

I turned to Codilious for conformation.

"It's a pea-shooter. You load it with stones or paper, and blow into one end to fire your ammunition," our Head Gamemaker explained. I looked back at the screen as the tribute loaded the pea-shooter with something I couldn't see. It was a dart of some kind.

"That's one of the darts from the cornucopia. I wondered who had picked those up," Ammy, the Weapons Expert, said.

"But a simple dart can't hurt my monsters; their flesh is as hard as stone. It's how I designed them," I told my fellow Gamemakers, with a hint of pride in my voice. I watched the others' reactions, but nothing in their faces changed, except for one.

"Yes, but I designed the arena," Maristelale replied, an air of mystery in her sickly sweet voice. We all turned to her in confusion.

"That arena is covered with nightlock. It seems as though Lacey's been busy foraging," Marie said, smiling happily. We all "ahhed" as we caught on and turned back to the action.

"Are your mutts poison proof?" Codilious asked, and I shook my head sadly. Back to the drawing board it was, then.

Lacey was firing dart after poisoned dart at one beast, the bigger of the two. Eventually it collapsed onto the snow, covered with her darts. But, like her ally before her, she had run out of weapons to fire from her pea-shooter.

"Wait! What's happening?" Ammy cried, pointing at our array of equipment and screens. Icy zoomed in with one of the cameras, and we saw two girls pushing their daggers again and again into my precious creation. I held my head in my hands, but the girl Gamemakers in the room screamed at me to look.

There, the daggers were not breaking through the skin. The monster was thrashing loudly, trying to attack the girls blindly. They dodged and swerved out of the way, apart from one. She didn't see the blow. Azalea pushed Mimi out of the way as a hand swooped down, picking up the thirteen year old and tossing her into the sky like a rag doll.

The other Gamemakers looked at me as I fiddled with the buttons on my controls.

I shrugged innocently, and replied, "You should know by now that my mutts like to play with their food." Then, a sound not quite unlike a scream erupted through the speakers, but it was just one word; one final, dying wish of a young, District 11 tribute.

She closed her eyes as the monster scraped its claw across her arm and shouted out one word. "Run!" It was all the other tributes could do.

District 9: Tatania "Tanya" Braeburn - 20 hours 

I sat huddled in the summer area of the arena as a faraway cannon screamed in my ears, and I tried as hard as I could to fall asleep. But I had no sponsors or money, and therefore no weapons or supplies. I had run from the cornucopia, not stopping to see the other tributes and myself die.

Luckily for me, nobody had followed me, even though I was probably, definitely, the slowest runner out of all of us left, however many that was now.

I had heard three cannons since the end of the bloodbath, and six faces had shown in the sky; I was guessing that there were 26 other tributes hovering around the arena, waiting to kill me. I just had to hope that the career pack were far, far away.

So, as I wrapped my arms tighter around my knees under the shelter of the big trees, I thought of my father, Othello. I wanted my dad to tell me that everything would be alright, and we could be safe. He did that, all the time, when I forgot that I had no mother. He would hug me and whisper stories to me.

Some kids thought I was too old for bed-time stories, but I needed them. They were my life-line, the only thing I had that bought me closer to my mother.

Just as I tried to picture what she looked like, I heard a rustle in the trees above me. I turned around, feeling my eyes widen in fear. Was it a Gamemaker mutt? Another tribute out for my blood? I couldn't tell, because the noise of moving leaves was growing louder and closer.

I saw something, something that looked an awful lot like snake slithering through the bushes. I couldn't help myself; I screamed.

Just as I was busy screaming did I feel something wrap itself around my ankle. I stopped and closed my mouth, looking down in horror at the vine curled around my leg. It started to grow, creeping up my body before another joined it.

I was slowly being turned into a mummy.

I couldn't move my legs or my arms; I was completely cocooned in the vines. I really started to panic when they wrapped around my mouth. I struggled and fought, tried to do everything in my power to escape my death-trap. But nothing worked. I couldn't even scream for help, couldn't breathe.

And as the vines slowly dragged me under the bush, somewhere far away, I heard my cannon sound.

The Capitol: Amelia Airhate - 21 hours

"Can you believe this? Only 21 hours into the Games and we've already had 10 deaths. There are only 26 left now!" Marylin squealed, crossing off two names from her list.

I admitted that it was hard trying to keep track of the various deaths with the extra tributes and that.

"Two Gamemaker tricks in 3 hours. They must really want blood," I commented, looking at the screen where Tanya's cannon echoed through the speakers. I had liked her, and nobody had believed that she would survive the bloodbath. Even though she died only a day later, it must have been nice to know that she had still proved all of those people wrong.

"Can you believe those yeti-type things? They were so scary!" Mary cried, giggling at the thought of more surprises coming our way. Storm nodded absent-mindedly, not really looking interested in the conversation.

I huffed, and pointedly ignored him. He wasn't worth my or Mary's time.

I stood up to get a drink at exactly the same time _he _did. He didn't sit down and allow me to get him something, just followed me into our wide, open-plan kitchen. I placed a cup forcefully down the worktop, not caring that I could hear my mother's botoxed screams from upstairs, telling me to "Mee maremull!", which translated as 'be careful', or so I thought, at least.

I knew that everybody else thought I was so lucky having a victor in my house a lot, and having such an amazing best friend as Marylin, and I knew that I should've been thrilled. I should've been offering to get him things, smiling and chatting with him and flirting, but I didn't want to do that.

I just didn't like the way he thought he could burst into our lives simply because he won the Hunger Games.

"Can I help you?" I asked him, shuffling through the shelves to find a tea bag, hovering somewhere in between the low-saturated fat products and healthy living drinks. I pushed the food items out of the way, and groaned when I found nothing. I moved hastily onto the next cupboard.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Storm asked quickly, not hesitating. It was like he had no pride or dignity to lose, or was just so overly cocky that he expected me to fall into his arms at any moment.

I sighed, and turned to face him. So, he was cute, but not my type, whatever my type was.

"You march in here like you own the world. You have no consideration for others' feelings. You are so arrogant I want to slap you, multiple times. Your name is stupid," I replied angrily, finally finding a decent teabag and throwing it into my mug.

"That was last one isn't valid. I didn't choose it," he said, helping himself to an apple in the fruit bowls. I scowled and started the kettle; new technology and all that, it was done in seconds. I didn't hear any sounds from inside the living room, so I presumed that nothing was happening that was Marylin-squeal worthy.

I walked out of the room, or stomped, taking my tea with me, just as a loud cannon roared into the room from the speakers.

* * *

Bring on the Gamemaker tricks! *dances strangely* Don't you just love those tricks in this chapter? This was mainly for Codilious, with an appearance from Storm and some mutts, just for you ;) What did you think? Remember to tell me what you loved/hated! Thank you so much!

Please can we have a moment of silence for those lost in this chapter: Azalea Rose Calloway and Tanya Braeburn. Two 13 year olds, two sweet girls. You'll find out how Azalea ended up running from the yeti, and away from her allies, in the next update!


	18. The Chase Begins Part 2: Catch 22

Everything's changed... blood on hands... tears on cheeks... faces in the sky... all of it adding up... to the thing that will bring them all together... remember, children... nobody is safe. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show.

Main Characters: Somber Thrax, Brook Callins, Morganna Ren, Mylene Frostblight, Rolf Cadomay.

* * *

District 7: Somber Thrax 

_We were sitting in the snow part of the arena, Gisli armed with her brain, me armed with a simple axe and Azalea with no weapon to her name. I was on watch, listening to my allies' heavy breathing as I tried to focus on staying awake and staring at the row of trees, ready for danger to come at us, head-first. _

_Gisli mumbled something in her sleep, probably something about her dead brother. Azalea sucked her thumb slightly as she rolled over, her snores rumbling in my ears. _

_There was a murmur of rustling leaves, and I sat up, finally alert. I hastily shook awake the two sleeping girls, whispering for them to be quiet. _

_"What is it?" Gisli asked quietly, whilst Azalea muttered something like, "It's too early." _

_I shook her more forcefully, and she jolted awake, fully this time. I pointed silently to the row of trees in which I had heard the noise. We sat there and watched it, and I was about to announce that it was probably my imagination, when more crisp, dead leaves fell from the virtually bare trees fell onto my lap. I looked up to see a shadow hovering over me. A shadow definitely not of an average size person, or any type of person at all. _

_"Run!" Azalea shouted, probably more awake than either of her older allies, including myself. We all got up; picked up everything we dared, and sprinted for our lives. _

_We were still running, the heavy footsteps echoing behind us, loud and clear in my ears. The monster or mutt was catching up with us, even though we were all starting to run out of breath. _

_"Break off to the left!" Gisli called from my left and I followed her instructions. We were still running, the creature's footsteps getting quieter and further away. We stopped, but only then did I realise that there were only two of us. _

_Azalea was missing. _

_"Lea!" Gisli called desperately, but I only just realised that the monster hadn't followed us because it had given up; it had began a different chase. Our friend was on her own, and we couldn't do anything to help her. _

_Little Azalea, faced with the first mutt of the Games. We really were horrible people. _

"Where do you think she is?" Gisli asked me, her voice full of worry and guilt. I touched her arm in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture, and replied,

"For all we know, she could be on the other side of the arena," I said, but my words were met with the vibrating sound of a firing cannon. Gisli shook with tears as I tried to comfort her.

"We don't know it's her. It might not be her, she might still be alright," I told my ally, but my words meant nothing. Poor girl. Then there was a sound of hurried footsteps, and two tributes burst into our clearing in the summer area of the arena.

District 9: Brook Callins 

Morganna and I didn't know what to do. Careers were scary when they were on the hunt, and so we ran.

We reached the summer area, but two people were already there. I then realised what the scene must've looked like to them. We had just burst into their clearing, weapons raised. We never got a chance to explain.

Gisli kicked her leg high, letting it smash into Morganna's jaw. I ran to try and help my ally, but Somber leapt at me, keeping me away from the other fight. She had an evil looking axe in one hand, glinting murderously in the summer sunlight.

"You really need to think before you attack armed tributes," I told my opponent angrily, my dagger flying through the fight, trying to at least disarm her, or worse. Everything seemed to go in slow-motion as I slashed my knife across the air, and Somber ducked. The blade narrowly missed her head.

I cursed, probably more loudly than really needed, and lashed out again.

"Little girls should know not to mess with things above their head," Somber warned, her tall frame towering over me.

She was at least 3 year older and 7 inches taller, and just to spite me, she stood on her toes. I narrowed my eyes maliciously at her, and let my knife scrape across her jacket sleeve. I drew blood, but not as much as I hoped.

"You'll regret that," she hissed, pushing me onto the ground and bringing down her axe dangerously close to my head. I rolled over, and swung my legs up, kicking her back down. It gave me enough time to brace myself on my feet, ready for her next attack.

I looked over at the other fight, where Gisli had Morganna's dagger poised over my friend's head. Without thinking, I called out, "Hey!" causing my enemy to turn her head towards me and away from my ally.

Morganna took the opportunity, and pushed the District 12 tribute onto the ground.

But my distraction for my ally gave Somber a chance to recover and come at me again. There was a fury in her eyes that made me back slowly away, her axe dangerously close to my chest now. A held my knife out in front of me, but it seemed weak compared to her weapon.

Seeing a flash of light, I prepared myself for the axe to come down. Instead, I opened my eyes to see it flying off into the distance, Morganna's hand braced over Somber's. Looking over, I opened my mouth to thank her; but then there was a movement from behind my unarmed ally.

I screamed as I just saw the tip of a blade protrude through Morganna's stomach, and as she fell, the hilt of her own knife was visible.

Gisli was panting behind, her eyes wide as she looked down at the blood scattering her shoes. I yelled again, a wordless, devastating sound. Her cannon had not yet sounded, but all I had to do was wait.

District 4: Morganna Ren 

I blinked, looking up at the tear tracks on my ally's face, glistening beads of salt water streaming from her wet eyes. Brook was crouched over me, one hand bracing itself on the grassy floor, the other clutching mine too tightly for it to be comfortable for either of us.

"Oh," I whispered, looking down at the deep red blood on the ground, similar to that of the bloodbath, and bloodbath meant killing.

So, I had been stabbed. I was going to die. The revelation scared me as I felt my piercing blue eyes widen slightly, the blood dripping over my fingertips.

"You're going to okay, you're going to be fine," Brook told me, shaking my arm slightly. We both knew that she was trying to convince herself; not me. I gripped her hand back, silently telling her what she already really knew.

"I know," I murmured back, but she knew what I meant.

She knew that this was the only way. I would have to die for her to survive, to win. I was just another tribute, not her ally. Just another cannon fired in the distance. She knew that, inside.

"Don't leave me," Brook sobbed, looking at me with eyes so full of love and hatred, such a strong sense of right and wrong. She knew that this was wrong, but she knew all too well that there was nothing she could do to make it right again.

Nobody and nothing could re-write history.

"I won't," I promised, still holding her hand. It was stupid, really. We had known each other little more than a week, and we were already crying at the end. We were best friends, but I guess having common enemies brings you together. It's always better for someone to have your back, not stab it.

"Tell Mara and Fee that I love them, yeah?" I said, hiding a secret message in my words. She would have to survive to tell my sisters that I was sorry I had to die. She needed to win for me, for us. I would make sure that my death was worth it, in the end.

"Yeah. I will, Anna," Brook told me; using the nickname she knew annoyed me more than anything. I scowled at her through the pain, but my gaze softened as her laughs turned to sobs yet again.

My grip on her hand faltered, and I felt my arm droop to my side.

"You'll be with Dahra now," my only friend in the Game whispered, pushing my hair back from my face. Somewhere, I heard a loud cannon fire, announcing my early death.

District 4: Mylene Frostblight 

I knew, as soon as I allied with Rosemary from District 6, that the ghosts would come back to haunt us. We knew now that they were a Gamemaker trick, built to push us to our deaths.

So, as we sat quietly in the spring area, knowing that something would come for us sooner or later. After the hologram of Nettle, Nicole's sister, last year, we knew that we had to be ready for anything and everything.

It was kind of boring, waiting for either other tributes or mutts to find us.

We didn't know what else to do. We couldn't exactly move from our spot, but we couldn't just stay here waiting either. It was a classic Catch 22.

As another cannon, one far too near to us for it to be comfortable, sounded in our ears, I worked out that there were only 25 of us left. Still at least one more than we would've usually started with. If it had been a normal Games, we would've stood a better chance.

"You know what?" Rose asked, breaking me away from my thoughts. I looked at my ally, who looked at me. I didn't answer, just waited for her to continue.

"If it had been a normal Games, we wouldn't have been chosen. If it weren't for the Capitol, we would've been safe," she said bravely. I laughed slightly as Rosemary stared at me as though I was a lunatic.

I smiled at her, and commented, "Great minds think alike." Despite the situation, we acted like any two normal girls would when they shared a private joke; we laughed our heads off like the lunatics Rosemary had thought I was. We were just two friends... but we weren't.

So eventually we stopped, because we were two tributes stuck in the 28th Hunger Games. Nothing else, not then. We could pretend all we liked, but at some point reality would catch up with us.

"They'll get us at some point," Rose told me gravely, but I didn't disagree.

She just backed up my idea that great minds do think alike. But our minds wouldn't help us, our knives and weapons would. That was just the world, now. I pulled my smaller ally close to me, and we sat in silence once more.

Then, without warning, something flew through the trees, hitting me in the neck. It was perfect aim, admittedly. But that didn't help me as I collapsed onto the ground, the dart sticking out from the artery in my neck.

I could feel the nightlock poison flowing through my bloodstream, steady and painful.

"Mylene? Mylene?" I heard a voice cry, but my brain was going fuzzy, my vision becoming blurred. Slowly, I tried to get up but ended up stumbling everywhere and falling back down again. I couldn't think; I didn't listen to the strangled cries of the girl next to me.

I didn't know who she was, and I pushed her away. Maybe she was trying to kill me, and I didn't want that. I didn't know why I didn't want her to hurt me, but I knew that I shouldn't let her near me.

"Stay away!" I slurred, my voice scarily quiet and hoarse. I pushed again, causing the small girl to stumble. I leant my back against the tree, holding my throbbing head. I started to feel faint when a silver thing appeared in front of me; it looked pretty. I grabbed hold of the soft fabric and laughed. It made me happy to see it, but I still didn't understand why.

I started to fumble my fingers around a kind of opening, because I felt something solid and hard underneath the soft, silvery... thing. I couldn't think of the name of it, but that didn't matter.

There was a bottle type object inside, sparkly. That was almost as pretty as the fabric it was in.

I looked up at the girl, no longer thinking she was a danger, when I collapsed. The bottle slipped from my hand and I made a wordless noise with my mouth. The pain was increasing now, the nice, happy feeling gone.

I had a panicked look in my eyes as my body jolted like I was having an electric shock. Then, a warm liquid was being poured down my throat, and I swallowed unwillingly. I choked and spluttered, but still the liquid dripped into my forced open mouth.

Finally it stopped, and my head cleared. I blinked multiple times, Rosemary's feature now visible and not blurred together.

"Oh," I said, looking down at the bottle in her hand. "Poison Antidote" was written clearly on the label.

"Thank you," I whispered to her, closing my eyes. I felt the sweat drip down my forehead as I sat up, leaning my back once again on the bark of the tree. The note attached to the bottle read, "In case you get thirsty. From, Left4Hunger xx".

"I'm hoping that that's just a nickname," Rose said, taking the note from my hands and reading it aloud. I laughed, but I could still feel the poison in my veins.

I reached to take the note, but slumped down onto the ground. This recovery would take longer than was probably safe.

District 1: Rolf Cadomay 

I had a concrete plan. I knew exactly what to do. I just had to wait.

I had been watching the two tributes for the day, seeing if they would break away from their different alliances; they did. It was a drama episode like no other; a girl from 5 and a boy from 12. Scandalous, as some might say.

"I'll go and see if I can find some meat," Five declared to her large alliance, taking her sword and wire with her. Of course, the only thing that she would be hunting would be Twelve's lips, I guessed.

It was a waste though; there were only few boys left in the Games; ending Twelve's life would lower our numbers. But it was a price I was willing to pay.

I darted through the trees, after the two tributes.

"I'll see if I can get us some firewood," Twelve told his ally, leaving their clearing and meeting Five halfway. I remembered her name _(Kelly, maybe?)_, vaguely, but his didn't ring any bells. I just knew it was common, like Steven. I just couldn't remember exactly what it was.

"Hi again," Five whispered, and I looked away in disgust as they came nearer to each other. I gagged behind their backs; let them think that everything was normal, before I came out of my hiding place behind a tree.

I leant against the same bark, casual and cool as I raised one eyebrow.

"Don't let me stop you," I said, as their heads snapped towards me. I smiled, and curled my samurai sword around my fingers expertly, the blade never cutting me. I placed another hand at the hilt, and raised the sword just braced to kill.

I ran forwards, and kicked the Twelve away. I grinned maliciously as I heard his head go _crunch _on the bark behind him. His groans told me he was conscious; good, because I wanted him to see this. Five raised her sword, her hands shaking. I pushed out my sword, throwing her weapon to the ground.

I remembered their names now.

"Say your last words," I muttered, holding out my thin sword. I heard Sam cry out, but I smiled. At least he would be able to see his precious Kelby die.

* * *

Dundundun... aren't I just evil? I leave you with a cliff hanger, then lie, then give you an even worse cliff hanger! Anyway, if you loved this chapter, say "Aye"! I don't want anyone saying "Nay". *scans crowd* I really hoped you liked it, and this unexpected Christmas treat!


	19. The Chase Begins Part 3: Finally

Dangers will be faced... tributes are about to die... alliances are about to be tested... friendships about to be known... but who will Death take from the dreaded seasons arena? Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show.

Main Characters: Kelby Fuse, Schatten Tomar, Rolf Cadomay, Tara Green Flowers, Ruse Kennedy.

* * *

District 5: Kelby Fuse - 32 hours into the Games (10 PM) 

"Oh," I said, looking into the hard eyes of Rolf Cadomay, career and killer. Sam was crying out for me to run, but the District 1 tribute's grip on me was tight, and if I tried to run, he wouldn't hesitate to make my death painful.

"I'll make you suffer, and let your boyfriend watch," Rolf drooled, smiling evilly and murderously at Sam.

"So, Twelve, how do you want your precious Kelby to die? Slowly, painfully?" He asked, as Samuel looked on wide-eyed and angry.

"She won't die!" He yelled, stumbling as he tried to get up, and failed. I watched as different emotions flitted across his face: fear, anger, confusion and sadness.

Rolf drew his thin sword across my jaw-bone, just pricking up skin and causing blood to dribble down my neck and onto my black jacket. It was tattered and ripped, but I had been careful to leave no blood on me to see. Now, the career was staining my outfit with the tip of an evil blade.

"You're going to make a boy watch his mother die?" I asked him bravely, hatred rolling through me like a tidal wave of hard, strong emotion. I struggled more, but that just caused his sword to dig harder into my bone, making me cry out and stop my attempts to escape.

"What do you want me to do? Should I tell him to close his little eyes?" Rolf mocked, smiling as he watched me.

"What's his name?" He asked me, lifting up my chin so that I had to look him in the eye. I tore my head away, refusing to answer and hear my lovely son's name uttered by somebody so evil. I wouldn't let him curse my baby boy.

"I said, what's his name?" Rolf pressed, his blade now tearing at my skin, almost making my faint from the pain and the sight of blood flowing from my wound.

"Kelz," I gasped, struggling to breathe as the sword was close to killing me. I started to beg, begged for him not to kill me or Sam, to let us go. I promised that we'd never hurt him or come after him; he would be safe if he would just let us go.

"Let me think..." he pondered, looking into the distance and tilting his head. He put his finger on his chin as though he really was thinking about his answer. "No."

I felt my legs fall from beneath me as the sword finally pushed me to my limit. I fell, my vision blurring and my body getting cooler by the second. I closed my eyes, no longer having the strength to keep them open any more.

Sam was on his feet and trying to get to me. I watched, almost in slow-motion, as the thin, deadly blade that was slowly killing me plunged straight into Sam's heart. I heard him mutter, from across the clearing,

"That never hurt as much as it did to watch her fall." Rolf's laughs echoed in my ears as poor Sam's cannon sounded, ringing and loud and clear. Oh, Sam. Oh, my poor, poor Sam. Luna would never have anyone to look after her as she looked after her baby Sam.

Oh, Sam.

As I thought of Sam's unborn son, my own son, of our cannons, I felt the world slip away. Oh, Sam. Boom.

District 8: Schatten Tomar - 34 hours 

_Scared. Don't be scared. So scared. Be brave, not scared. Alone. I'm not alone. So alone. I am alone. The voices of instinct, and reason. My voice and Kaily's. Twisting and curling around in my fragile, burnt mind. Scared. So scared. Alone. So alone. Kaily, where are you?_

_"Mummy, where are you?" The little girl's voice asked through the smoke. It crept through the door, twisting and curling, like a monster from under her bed. The girl coughed, her eyes watering as the smoke penetrated her room. _

_"Daddy, are you there?" She asked, her voice shrill and raspy. She coughed again, her throat closing up and her hands shaking. She climbed out of her bed, her nightgown wrapped around her small frame. _

_She stumbled over to the wooden door, but the handle was too hot to touch. She backed away as flames appeared under her only exit, twisting and curling like the smoke. It licked her feet and burned them. The little girl screamed, loud and piercing, but nobody heard her. She was alone in the burning house, or she might as well have been. _

_"Mummy! Daddy! Please..." she coughed, clutching her chest and trying to find some clear air. _

_She tripped on her way to the window, and the air was nicer down there. _

_In her confusion and terror, she had forgotten the basic safety rules of a fire that she had learnt at school. But they had only got to the point of walking slowly and calmly out of the school building, and to drop and roll. There was nothing about what to do when you're trapped in a smoky, burning room, alone. _

_She made a wordless, terrified noise, like an animal trapped; because that's all she was. The little girl was a mouse faced with a lion, and this lion had no thorn in its paw. The mouse could not fight, not trick the fire and smoke into letting her go. _

_Her bedroom walls were the bars of her prison. _

_"Help me!" The girl cried, banging on the door with her little fists, desperate and scared. She knew she was going to die, but she didn't want to accept it. She didn't want to accept that her life would end at the young, simple age of ten years old. _

_Without thinking, she crawled to the window. She fiddled with the latch, but nothing happened. It was locked tight. _

_She grabbed the lamp on her bedside, and threw it through the window. With a crash, the glass smashed and scattered onto her carpet. The girl trod past the broken glass, a symbol of her family and her life in years to come. Her slippers were no defence, though, against the sharp shards on the floor, and they cut into her small, pale feet. _

_She winced, but she knew that the window was her only hope. And so, the little girl with glass in her feet and a nightgown wrapped around her, jumped. _

"Oh, Mummy, Daddy. Where are you?" I whispered to myself, thinking of the little girl trapped in the burning house.

I remembered that night all too clearly, the feeling of smoke rising into my throat, the hope I felt when I broke open the window. The memory of screams that then, I didn't think about. I knew now that those screams were the signal that Mum and Dad weren't coming to help me, not then, not ever. They were too far gone to know that, if I were at their deathbed, they wouldn't know my face.

Scrunching my eyes tightly shut, I blocked out the memories once more.

There was a murmur that echoed through the forest; a murmur of footsteps. I gasped, far too loud for me to remain invisible.

Tristan, the boy from 9, appeared from the row of trees in the distance, nervous and scared, like me. As far as I knew, he had stayed unknown in the Games, not involved in any fights or killings, like me. We were so alike; it surprised me when he threw something in my direction. I gasped again as something that looked like a boomerang flew towards me.

I felt the blow, and collapsed. Tristan, my killer, walked over to me, pity and sadness written all over his face.

He looked sorry that he murdered me, it seemed. But I wasn't a mind- reader; I didn't know what he was thinking. Maybe he was just a great actor. I didn't know.

"The careers are on the hunt. They would find you, and torture you. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," Tristan whispered into my ear, which was red with the blood dripping from it. So, it was a mercy killing. He was right, I guessed, and if the careers were on the way I never stood a chance.

What if that Sequin Allure got to me and carved loser into my forehead like she did to that Michael? What if Floyd decided to tear me apart, limb from limb? The possibilities were endless when it came to the deadly career pack.

My mouth formed a perfect "o" as I leant back, and closed my eyes. The pain was strange, and unlike the one of the fire. It was a nicer, easier pain, I decided. I died knowing that I should have died in the night of the fire, alone and burning and crying.

Now, I died with a kind person at my deathbed, a peace coming over me and a darkness clouding my head and my vision. And that was how the Shadow Girl died, finally.

District 3: Tara Green Flowers - 35 hours 

It was... interesting, being in an alliance with the careers, to say the least.

Isabella and Trista had really hit it off, as did Sequin and Ivory. It was strange, because in training the two District 1 girls had been at each other's throats, and now they were best friends? I would never understand them, and I didn't want to.

Sequin and Floyd were supposed to be "together", but honestly, they didn't spend much time together, if you didn't count when their tongues were down each other's throats. They made out every now again, during which Trista covered Isabella's eyes. But they never actually... talked. Sequin spent most of her time bitching about something or other, checking her appearance, or giggling with Ivory.

It was torture.

Right now, it was one of Sequin and Floyd's "alone times", when actually they cuddled and made out in front of Panem, and, unfortunately, us.

"My eyes are burning!" Isabella cried, shielding her grey eyes. Trista started to laugh before muttering something that sounded like, "You would be funny like that, Lily." I shook my head, clearing it of the insane thoughts that were the District 2 tribute.

A cannon sounded, a cannon far too close for the killer not to be near.

"Jeez, guys, can you even breathe over there?" Ivory asked, which was true, because their lips never broke away.

I gagged slightly, and announced, "I'm going to get some fire wood or something."

The rest of the alliance hastily agreed, making up absurd excuses, including, "I'm going to polish my head with tree bark! Catch ya later." The latter was from, of course, Isabella, who started hitting her head against a nearby tree. She walked away from the scene, probably finding another suitable head-banging plant. Or along those lines anyway.

The four of us moved through the dense, spring forest, hoping that Sequin and Floyd had the sense to watch the camp for us, as the other tributes might think that it was an easy target, with only two of them left.

Of course, if the lovebirds were ready, then no attackers stood a chance.

"Did you hear that?" Ivory commented, tilting her head to the side to listen out for footsteps, or anything else the Gamemakers could send after us. But the careers weren't usually a target for them, because they didn't want to upset our sponsors. And careers always had sponsors.

"Shh," Isabella whispered, more quiet than I had ever heard her.

She started forwards, careful not to disturb the leaves and twigs scattered over the ground. Even though a 13 year old career didn't really stand a chance in the Hunger Games, at least she could creep around quietly.

There was a murmur through the trees, and a figure jumped out at the District 2 girl. Isabella didn't scream like I expected, just fought back with a vengeance.

I heard a crunch as her elbow connected with the intruder's head, and I winced as he collapsed onto the ground.

"Rolf?" Ivory asked, shocked. She ran towards the D1 tribute, her hands cradling his head. Her eyes were wide and wet with tears, something I didn't comprehend until the last moment. She whispered to the career that everything would be okay; we all knew that it wouldn't.

"Get out the way, Rory," Isabella said warningly, and she stepped forwards, a rock raised in her hand. Rory? I bet she just loved to tease Sequin and Ivory. Rolf was clutching his head, glaring at the little career.

"Well, isn't this interesting?" I commented, looking down at the two district partners. Without warning, Rolf leapt up and tackled Trista to the ground, pushing her into the shrubbery. Isabella and I gasped, but Ivory sat in her place, watching the events unfold with wide eyes.

First, Trista pushed her legs up, kicking Rolf away from her. He landed with a thump onto the grass, breathing heavily. Isabella pounced on top of him, like a little, angry kitten.

I joined the fight, knowing that Rolf had no chance against the three of us. Trista punched him, hard, when he tried to stab her friend. Then, he tried to swing at me. I held the hand that held his sword, bracing it so it was held just in front of my face.

"Do you like him even though he's willing to kill your allies, your friends?" I asked Ivory, but she just looked back at me blankly. Her big eyes were wide and scared as Rolf looked back at her. And slowly, just enough time for Ivory to run in front of her boyfriend, I started a countdown.

"One," I said loudly, kicking away his ninja sword and holding my knife just next to his neck.

Isabella and Trista had my back, standing there and watching the row of trees for any threats. Ivory brushed herself down and got up off of the floor.

"Two," I told them, digging my dagger a tiny bit into his neck, just enough to draw blood and make him squirm. Ivory looked impassive, her eyes finally reduced to their normal size. She put one foot forward, just creeping towards us.

"Three," I whispered, moving my knife and letting Rolf's body fall to the ground. It was one against three; even if he had been successful in escaping, he would be on the floor before he could make it past the row of trees.

A cannon sounded, and as Ivory stood next to me, I felt her tears brush against my arm as she looked down. When she met my eyes, hers were scared, and sad, and very, very angry.

"You'll pay for that, Flowers," she warned, stalking off into the forest.

Isabella shrugged, and said off-handedly, "She's a good fighter." I didn't know what she was talking about; whether she was trying to be horrible and scare me, or if she was simply saying why she was in the career pack, and being... nice?

I wasn't sure, but as we trudged back to camp to find Sequin and Floyd still at it, I had to wonder: would I pay dearly for killing Rolf? Or was justice finally on my side?

District 11: Ruse Kennedy - 37 hours 

I looked up into the sky, and felt light tears prick slightly in my eyes.

It seemed as though I had all of District 11 rooting for me now; Annaliese had died in the bloodbath, and now Azalea was gone too. I had joked and laughed with Anna in the chariot rides and training, and Azalea had always looked up at me with wide eyes when she tried something new in training- she wanted my praise.

We had got on well, as district partners go.

"You alright?" Derek asked, his night goggles secured to his face, just as I comprehended that there were other faces in the sky. Kelby had left the camp to find some food, or so she said. She had never come back, so we never knew how she died.

It could've been another tribute, a Gamemaker mutt, herself. I didn't want to think about the latter.

"Yeah," I replied gruffly, not going further with my answer like some would do. The other faces were Mare from 10, little Tanya from 9, Rolf from 1, Shadow Girl from 8, Samuel from 12 and Morganna from 4. Two careers had died; the odds weren't looking so good anymore. Sure, there was less competition, but if careers couldn't survive, how could a little mis-match group of lower district tributes?

The limit was being pushed, I could tell, until there was another bloodbath like last year. Or maybe the Gamemakers had another trick up their sleeves.

"Oh Kelby," Keira May muttered sadly, looking up at the sky also. I tried not to look at one face, the face I had seen pale. The one death I had caused. Marta Wren Harris' face smiled down at me as I felt the tears in my eyes finally over-flow and tumble freely down my cheeks.

I didn't sob; I just sat in silence as the faces disappeared into the night. Kendal sat beside me, but I pushed her away. As I did so, I saw a hint of red on my hands.

The blood was deep and red, and thick as I scrubbed them together, trying to wipe off the sickly liquid. Nothing happened. I kept scrubbing and rubbing but it didn't come off, just stained my hands stubbornly, never disappearing for a second.

"Ruse? Ruse?" I heard, and I looked up to see Keira May looking up at me, her eyes wide.

I closed my mouth, only just realising that I was shouting loudly at the blood. I looked back down, and it was gone. Nothing there but the rough flesh of my palms.

I walked away, sitting down and hugging my knees by a tree and trying to make myself invisible. That was all that I wanted; for nobody to see or hear me, nobody to bother me or try to kill me. That was never going to happen though, because I was in the Hunger Games.

And when you're hiding in the Hunger Games, soon or later you have to be found.

* * *

So, four more tributes are dead. Who else will meet their fate? I want loads of reviews and views before you can find out! I really hoped you liked it, and the usual career antics and drama thrown into all the sad, emotional moments!

A moment of silence for those lost today: Sam Jacobs, Kelby Fuse, Schatten Tomar and Rolf Cadomay. Rolf got what he deserved, but what's the price that Tara will pay for it?


	20. Don't Look Back Part 1: Forever 14

Everything has begun to change... revenge in their eyes... hatred controlling it all... how will friendship break through the destruction... and who will pay the ultimate price? Ladies and gentlemen, these are the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show.

Main Characters: Anya Rayne, Ashton "Ash" Samuels, Rosemary Angel, Ivory Noire, Amelia Airhate.

_WARNING: This is how far I've got for editing. I'll be re-doing the next chapters some time in the near future, but for now, I apologise heartily for any mistakes you find after this. Thank you for your patience!_

* * *

District 6: Anya Rayne- 40 hours into the Games (6AM) 

I was on duty, or watch, at six o'clock in the morning; it was not my idea of fun.

I fingered the sword in my hand, testing the weight on my fingers. It was quite heavy, but I had fought with heavier in the training room. I watched my four sleeping allies, thinking through their weaknesses and strengths.

Ruse could handle a scythe pretty well, and claimed that he could use a dagger or two. But he was getting a bit crazy now a days, looking at his hands every waking hour because he thought there was blood on his palms. Now though, Ruse's screams were threatening to give away our position.

Keira May was good with traps and snares, and caught us our dinner last night; roasted pork.

I had no idea what a flying pig was doing in the arena, but it seemed pretty harmless, and a pretty good target. But Keira had no real weapon training, and didn't really live up to standards in training. She could learn, I guessed.

Kendal had great aim, and was okay at knife throwing and such. I hadn't seen her throw a spear, but she probably would be okay with the heavier weapons anyway. She had been pretty silent most of the time though, not really doing much. She had actually cried when Ruse killed that Marta; she hates killing apparently. That wouldn't help later on.

Then there was Derek. Yes, he was strong and could handle most of the heavy weapons alright, apart from an axe. It was weird that somebody from District 7 wouldn't know how to use an axe, but there you go. And the thing was, he couldn't actually _fight. _I'd never seen him use his strength, ever. And he was too soft.

You couldn't be kind when you're trying to survive.

Now, I just had to weigh out the pros and cons, just like I did with my sword. See who was worth keeping, and who would slow the rest of us down. I sat there for half an hour, hoping that everybody would stay asleep. In those 30 minutes, I began to put my plan into action.

I drew my sword carefully from the pocket in my belt, and stood over my victim. It was ironic; I was going to stab them in the back, literately.

I plunged my sword downwards, letting it sink into their spine, through their rib-cage and into their beating heart. I cleaned my sword, and was gone from the scene before their cannon sounded.

I sat just far away enough not to be spotted, and watched as the three others jolted awake as the Gamemakers announced their ally's death. Keira May started crying when she saw the blood, looking in shock at the body.

Ruse looked around for the sign of the killer, but he didn't see me. He could do maths though; he knew that I, and some supplies and weapons, were missing from our camp. He wasn't completely stupid, and neither was Kendal.

She started shouting at me to come out and face her. Not a chance that I was going to do that, wasn't there?

Derek was lying; face down, on the ground, his night vision goggles still on his face, hiding his glassy, ghostly eyes. He didn't look scared, which was easier, I supposed. He just looked like he was sleeping soundly, like when I killed him.

"Anya," Ruse said, malice dripping from his voice like the blood that he thought dripped from his fingertips.

I scowled through the layer of trees as Kendal kicked a stone angrily and Keira May looked on blankly as a hovercraft appeared above them.

"He didn't deserve this," Keira said sadly, taking the night vision goggles from his face, and slowly brushing two fingers against his eyes to close them. The hovercraft claw came down just as the group of allies moved out of the way.

"We'll get her back, May. We'll get her back," Kendal told her ally, putting one arm around her shoulder and watching the trees where I hid. It was almost as though she knew I was hiding nearby, watching them. Maybe she did.

But I didn't need them, and they needed me. I had been planning to cover up Derek's death; pretend I had only seen the attacker running away. In the end, it seemed pointless to pretend.

And so I ran through the forest, away from the group of mourning tributes; I didn't look back.

District 10: Ashton Samuels - 43 hours 

I awoke to the sound of something moving through the trees. It was either a big creature or a big- built tribute, stomping through the forest as though they, or it, didn't care if they were caught. They weren't walking quickly at all; it was giving me enough time to run.

And so I did.

Air rushed past me as I ran and ran, trying to get away from the monster that was most likely sprinting behind me. Something flew past my ear and in the tree just to my left; I caught glimpses of a spike-type object over the length of my arm sticking out of the bark. I didn't stop long to inspect the spike, and started the chase again.

Breathe, Ash. Breathe, breathe. Keeping running. Breathe.

Those were the thoughts running through my head as I tried to escape the obvious Gamemaker trick lumbering behind me. I felt another spike rush past me, just landing where I placed my foot. The monster's aim was improving with every shot. Breathe, Ash. It was all I could do as I listened to the heavy footsteps coming from behind me.

I ducked just in time to see a spike vibrating in the trunk of the tree, just above my head. That was close; too close.

I turned around at the last moment, to catch a peek at my attacker. It was half wolf, half... something indescribable. Etched on its collar was the word "Wolfotaur". Hmm.

I ducked as another spike flew from its tail, and landed somewhere in the deeper parts of the forest, out of sight. There were no obstacles to stop the deadly weapon as it flew and flew; I never heard it stop, or a tribute scream, so I supposed that it was still going strong.

"Good Wolfotaur... good, Wolfy," I murmured, putting out my hands in a gesture of peace.

The beast must have taken it the wrong way, because it started towards at me again. But the spike came at me so fast, with so much force, that I forgot to duck. It pierced the sleeve of my jacket, and pinned me to yet another tree.

As I looked down at the spike, almost clipping my left side, I had an idea. I guessed that most Gamemaker tricks fought until they thought that the tribute was dead. I hung limply, and closed my eyes hopefully.

If my plan worked, I was free to live another day. If it didn't, then I guess my cannon would signal to the beast that I was dead.

I felt its muzzle sniff around my head, and I waited for the sound of another spike to pierce my heart or head. I waited... and waited, but death didn't come. I peeked open one eye, and the monster was gone. I almost missed Wolfy now. I had been quite lonely without Sam and Anna...

I shook my head, and took the spike out of my jacket and the tree. I almost laughed as I realised how dramatic I must have looked, holding the spike as though it had pierced my heart.

I secured the spike into my sheath of arrows, just in case, and counted them. I had used one to kill Perkele, and it was stained with his blood; I didn't look too closely at that one. I had used one to kill that massive spider - I always did hate spiders - and another to keep that pecking bird at bay. They both tasted like chicken.

I had only four left, along with the spike. Great. I probably had no sponsors, being from District 10. Wolfotaur was looking pretty welcoming right about now.

District 6: Rosemary Angel - 45 hours 

"Do we ever get a break?" Mylene asked, just as the Dragorpion charged at us again. It was strong; way too strong, for such a small beast, not to be Gamemaker- made. It was half scorpion, half dragon, and even though it was small it was putting up a pretty good fight.

"Us? A break? We'd be bored before five minutes was up!" I replied, hitting the mutt with my knife. It shied away, but didn't stop the fight. Mylene threw her spear, but the Dragorpion dodged the blow easily.

"You think we can tie it up?" Mylene wondered aloud, just as the creature lashed out at her yet again. She held her fish hook, made from simple wires found at the cornucopia and various twigs, and swung it around her head like a lasso.

"Good luck with that," I replied, but I nodded in her direction, signalling that we would just have to try.

I grabbed Mylene's spear, and held the mutt at a distance. Its claws pinched into the weapon, and it broke in my hand. The Dragorpion hissed, showing it's long red tongue. Poison dripped from its jaws and burnt holes in the ground.

Ouch.

"You got it?" My ally asked, as she prepared her fish hook. She attached a vine to the end of it, creating a kind of rope. She pulled, and nodded towards me. I rolled me eyes as she stood there, playing with her little hook like a cowgirl from District 10.

"I would appreciate some help, ya know," I breathed, as I felt a pincer close around my leg. I yelped, and tried to pull off the Dragorpion off of my ankle. I cut off the claw with my knife, but somehow the mutt grew another.

I tore off the dead lump of flesh around my leg and tossed it to the ground.

"Now would be nice!" I cried, just as Mylene was making her way around the back of the mutt. She rolled her eyes at me, and stopped just as I held the thing off with half a spear.

The Dragorpion reared onto its back pincers, and its tail was just about to prick my foot, when the vine wrapped around it. Mylene tugged, and bought down the mutt. She had managed to tie up all of its legs and pincers, and now stood grinning from ear to ear behind it.

"About time," I told her, but she knew that it was my way of saying thank you.

Around five minutes had passed whilst we were sitting amongst the trees and checking the damage to my leg, when I felt the hairs on the back on my neck stand up and a shiver rolled down my spine.

"Do you feel that?" My friend asked, tugging her jacket closer around her, blocking out the cold chill we obviously both felt. I nodded, and motioned to the trees out in the distance. They seemed to whisper something to us, shaking the leaves.

It was almost as though they were... warning us.

There was a shimmer of light and two figures appeared; two figures that Mylene and I had seen recently. Ghost Nicole and Ghost Casey floated towards us, their faces twisted in unbearable pain.

I reached out towards my dead sister, trying to help her and cure her.

"Rose..." Mylene muttered, holding me back. I knew that they weren't real; I knew that they were just figures of the Gamemakers' imaginations, but that was my sister. Mylene's family member had made it home; she had no real connection to Casey.

I stepped forward, towards the sister I hadn't seen for over a year, who I had watched die. Nicole looked exactly as she did when she was in the arena; tatty, ripped clothes and sleep-deprived eyes.

She wasn't the Nicole that I knew from my childhood, but she was the Nicole that I had come to accept whilst she was fighting for her life.

Then something in me clicked, and I stepped away from the ghost. This was exactly how they had tried to kill her; by luring her into the other arena, using a hologram of Nettle. I tripped over a root, and looked up at the two figures.

Casey looked like she was fighting something in her head, her face flicking between sadness and pain. Nicole had stopped screaming, and was just standing there in the light of the trees, looking down at me in wonder. And yet, she said nothing.

"You need... to run," Casey told us, still fighting her programming. Nicole was still stationary, until she nodded, very slightly.

Then, both screamed and faded, like they had that day in the elevator. Mylene and I were left alone, and I only just realised that her hand was outstretched, ready to touch Casey. I placed my hand on her shoulder, and turned her towards me.

It was like she was frozen though as she murmured, "Only Storm."

I had no idea what she meant, but I felt that she needed to be left alone, as did I. I curled up near a tree, and cried for my dead sister, forever 14.

District 1: Ivory Noire - 46 hours 

Oh, she was going to pay.

And the thing was, I knew exactly how to do it. Tara Green Flowers was going to realise that killing Rolf was her first and last mistake. I watched as she sat and chatted with Isabella and Trista around the fire, and Floyd was out getting firewood. Sequin sat beside me, watching me tentatively.

"What are you planning?" She asked, but I shook my head. She knew me well, but not well enough.

"Can I have a look at your necklace?" I asked, smiling on the inside because I had seen her playing with it last night. If I was right, then I knew exactly what it was. And Flowers wouldn't really stand a chance. Sequin handed over her token with a questioning glance, and I stood up.

Hoping that nobody was watching, I grabbed the water canteen we used.

I twisted the heart pendant, turning it into a vial of some sort. The two compartments had different openings, and I picked the red one. I hastily looked around, and dripped the liquid into the water.

"No hard feelings," I told the District 3 tribute, handing her the canteen. She took it gratefully, smiling up at me. She drunk deeply, more than the ration we had allowed ourselves. Of course, it only made my job easier when she drained it all.

"Sorry; I lied," I admitted, watching as she swayed in her space, clutching her throat with wide eyes. I held up Sequin's token, and swung it left and right like I was hypnotising Tara. I leant in close, and I could smell the sickly sweet odour of poison on her breath.

"You poisoned me?" She gasped, her eyes wide. I continued to wave the other vial in front of her face.

"And I have the antidote," I teased. Tara jumped forwards and tried to grab the necklace, but tumbled over and ended up at my feet.

"And this," I smashed the glass vial onto the floor, letting the liquid pour over the rocks and grass, sinking in and disappeared from view apart from my lowly wet patch on the ground. "-is for Rolf." I smiled at her as she collapsed, her hand wrapping around my ankle.

"Please," she whispered, looking up at me. I tore away my leg from her grasp, and snarled.

"Justice... is not on the side of any tribute," she murmured very quietly, and I kicked her and her ridiculous nonsense away. I heard a cannon, and grinned again.

I had finally avenged Rolf. I added Tara's name to my list of kills next to that Charlie from 8. Justice was on _my _side.

The Capitol: Amelia Airhate - 47 hours

I walked away from the living room, away from Marylin and her ever-full bowl of popcorn, and into the kitchen. I breathed deeply, almost regretting making an oath to watch every Game with her. After 17 years, it was getting a bit old.

I wiped my brown hair away from my eyes, and walked around the counter.

We had countless rooms and televisions and such around the house; courtesy of my father's job, and yet we still had enough money to cater for my mother's botoxed needs. There was a small room, one that we rarely used, stacked full of videos of previous Games.

"Storm?" I asked, peeking my head around the door to find a figure watching one tape on the small television with wide, green eyes. I crept into the room and sat on the opposite side of the sofa from the victor.

Then I noticed exactly what video he was watching.

"Oh," I murmured, seeing the pretty, tan face of long-dead Casey Ellison appear on the screen. She was sitting with Storm in the mountain cave, and both were silent. I remembered the moment well, because that was when they figured out about the hourglass arena and the whirlpool.

"Are you alright?" I questioned Storm, edging closer.

His eyes were fixated onto the screen, watching as Casey now held Lyli, the tribute from District 10. He was still watching as she brushed the dead girl's eyelids shut, her cannon echoing through the old, scratchy speakers. The dust was thick on the television, but he didn't seem to mind.

"No. No, I'm not alright," Storm admitted.

I remembered a conversation I had had with my best friend only yesterday. Mary was convinced that I hated him. She was sure that she could make me like her new "boyfriend".

But the thing was, I didn't mind Storm. Sure, I hated him when Mary was around, but the few times I had caught him on his own he was almost... sweet. What really made my blood boil and made me see red was the way he was hurting Casey's memory. Sure, she was the one who had told him to move on, but I'm sure she didn't mean like this. I was a believer of true love, love at first sight, soul mates, fate and destiny.

I had always been a sucker for happily ever-afters. I didn't hate Storm, not really.

And so, as all of this went through my mind, I realised that Storm didn't love Marylin. He hadn't forgotten Casey, or moved on. He was still in love, but he never had his happily ever after.

I supposed that he never would, with the image of a chocolate eyed, brown haired, kind, smart and confident girl constantly at the back of the mind he was slowly losing. I was just glad that he hadn't been watching the 28th Games when the ghosts came.

"I miss her. I miss her more than anything in the world, and I can't tell her," he whispered sadly. I looked at the District 4 boy, for that's all he was really and something in my mind clicked; I could almost see the light bulb shine above my head. I couldn't tell Marylin to stop loving the Games or to dump him, I couldn't heal the whip marks on his sister's back, but I could bring back the love of his life.

Almost at least.

* * *

Here is a list of the tributes still alive:  
D1: Ivory and Sequin  
D2: Floyd, Trista and Isabella  
D3: Mimi  
D4: Mylene  
D5: Keira May  
D6: Rosemary and Anya  
D7: Somber and Lacey  
D8: Kendal  
D9: Tristan and Brook  
D10: Ashton and Cori  
D11: Ruse  
D12: Gisli

And a moment of silence for those dead in this chapter: Derek Tyras and Tara Green Flowers. Both very different characters, but both amazing to write.


	21. Don't Look Back Part 2: Care

They didn't look back... the killers... but now, revenge is in their minds... will the weak become dangerous... will the dangerous be put at the weak's mercy once and for all? Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show.

Main Characters: Gisli Raylor, Floyd Barabe, Kendal Resista, Brook Callins, Storm Marlinfield.

* * *

District 12: Gisli Raylor - 55 hours

The Gamemakers probably didn't care. They probably felt nothing as we screamed and shouted and bled and died. They would be used to it by now; they should be after 28 years. They probably didn't care that they had almost killed half of the tributes on the outside, they just enjoyed it, saw it as entertainment. They probably didn't care, or didn't realise, that those of us left were dead or dying inside.

The Gamemakers weren't paid to _care. _

Care. We all probably cared at some point, I guessed. We just had to wait for the trigger, that thing to make us stop caring. Everybody stops at one point. President Snow stopped caring very early in his youth, I supposed. The rest of the Capitol were born and raised to not care at all. But those of us, the people who have seen death with their own eyes and cared about it, we don't care anymore.

Loss is a common trigger to end care. Just a bang and feelings are gone.

_The little girl, despite everything, still cared. She had her brother, her sister, her mother; she still had reasons to care, back then. She was scared, yes, but she wouldn't let that scare the feelings away. Pain, she didn't welcome, but was secretly glad that she felt something. The little girl should have been too young to worry about such things. _

_Her father would come home, and she would try her best to keep her mouth closed, to do the dishes, to put food on the table, to not smile. But she always did something wrong. Dropped a plate because her hands were shaking; Tripped over nothing because she was struggling to walk; Said something that she shouldn't have. _

_Those were the things that drove the fist into her face. _

_The little girl still loved her father. She never understood why he would hurt her; she thought it was because of her. It never was, not really. _

_Her brother tried, you see. Tried to fight back, but that only made things worse for both of them. He learnt, eventually, to keep the anger inside, keep his vision from seeing red. It was all he could do; it was all they could both do. _

_Her mother and baby sister were no help. They didn't get hit as much as the little girl and her brother did; her father seemed to favour her sister over them. But she couldn't hate her for it; she was only three, and didn't understand anymore than the little girl did. _

_When she got older, she learnt about it more. She knew that it wasn't her fault - her father had problems, her brother had told her. She didn't know what problems, or if you could fix them, but she finally understood something. _

_But every time she got hit, she always wondered, _was it me?

_She hid her scars and bruises from her brother, and never let him know how much really happened. She took a deep breath, and sung her mother's lullaby from her young childhood in her head to block out some of the pain. _

_One day though, her brother leant in close and whispered something into her ear. She was only eleven at the time, still not eligible for the Reapings. He was though. _

_Apparently, her brother had had enough with her father, and slowly, he told her his plan. She didn't like it at first; she still loved her father, despite everything he had given her. But in the end, she agreed. She supposed that it would be easier to say it then, rather than later. Only if her brother made it quick, easy. He promised, but she wanted to be there herself. _

_So that was how the little girl from District 12 cared, even for the father who abused her, for the mother who didn't help her, for the sister she should have envied, for the brother who killed a man. _

_She cared, but when her family number was pushed down to just three, she started to wonder. Was caring worth it? _

"Gisli?" A voiced asked, and I turned to look at my ally and friend, Somber. We were both people no longer willing to really get close to anyone, but we had each other. We had both decided that that was enough.

"Mhm?" I replied, looking down at my fingers and playing with my weapons. I still couldn't, after all these years, get the image of my father's vacant eyes from my head.

"Can you hear that?" I looked around, and realised that I _could _hear something. It was like water dripping from somewhere, a steady rhythm in the distance. I froze, even more unmoving than I was before. I carried on listening, and felt my eyes widen just before the wave collapsed on top of us.

District 2: Floyd Barabe - 57 hours 

"Duck!" Somebody yelled, but I didn't; I wanted to look my competition in the eye, whatever or whoever they were. I heard a drip, drop of water, and froze. There was a crash as a wave appeared in the distance, knocking down and destroying everything in its path.

I was like a cat; water was not my element.

"Please tell me that everyone else can see that, or I am officially crazy," Isabella said, watching as the water came towards us in a fierce tidal wave.

"You were officially crazy even before that comment," Sequin retorted, gathering her knife and the water canteen.

"Come on, honey. We need to go." I gritted my teeth and managed to stop myself from strangling her. I gathered my sword and supplies, and checked around to make sure that everyone was following our lead. Isabella was helping Trista and Ivory was pulling on her dagger and bullet proof vest, delivered by silver parachute a few hours before.

"Let's roll," Isabella said, sprinting off into the middle of the arena, and towards the golden cornucopia still sitting in the centre. We all followed after her, keeping pace with everybody else in the alliance. We were careers after all; we knew how to run, and run fast.

"This is it," Trista said dreamily, still running quickly with us.

Ivory turned her light head to the half-insane tribute, and in a condescending voice, asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"

I sometimes wondered if Trista was actually smarter than any of us, but I quickly shook that thought out of my head. I was going to win, and I couldn't be admiring other tributes' skills and concentrate on destroying them at the same time.

"The trick to bring us all together, of course. Before, it was the hourglass arena. Now, it's this tidal wave. The Gamemakers aren't stupid; they know that only a lucky few of us can swim." We all slowed as she realised exactly what the district 2 tribute was saying.

"I think that here, dear friends, is where we part," Isabella said dramatically, taking Trista's arm and running away, never looking back. I looked at my two remaining allies.

"It's been fun, sweet-pea. But I've met better kissers," Sequin murmured, touching my cheek. She flashed me a smile, and Ivory did the same.

They walked away, but just before they were out of ear-shot, Ivory called out, "Every man for himself, Floyd!" Then they were gone. I supposed that Sequin realised that she had enough sponsors without me, and plus, Ivory had quite a few as well. I just had to hope that I could survive on my own. I could, and would.

I started running again, actually away that there was still a wave chasing me, us. I breathed deeply, and spurted forwards, using all of my energy to try and reach the cornucopia and hopefully, safety.

The thing was, from different points across the arena, you could see blobs appearing. From every corner of the summer, spring, autumn and winter areas, tributes were running from one, continuous wave of salt water.

Trista was right. This was the big fight, the one to at least halve our numbers.

I had to believe I had a chance; and so, just as I reached the centre, I grabbed the tribute nearest to me's neck, and without mercy, squeezed.

District 8: Kendal Resista - 58 hours

I gasped as I felt the water lap at my neck, and sprinted even faster to the centre of the arena - no man's land. Opposite me, I saw Floyd grab Sequin's neck; it seemed as though that romance had ended quickly.

Sequin fought back with a vengeance, but I didn't have time to concentrate on that fight, because that was when I saw a certain District 6 tribute standing only metres away from me. She looked almost scared as she watched the wave creep closer to her.

I smiled, more than I had in days, and edged nearer to the backstabber I had sworn to kill.

"Afraid of a little water, are we?" I mocked, grinning from ear to ear. She looked scared for a moment, and then humour danced in her eyes as she turned to face me. I twiddled my knife in and out of my fingers tauntingly, slowly putting one foot in front of the other.

"Of course not. Why, do you have something to hide?" She scoffed, and I hoped that my face was a perfect mask, because I didn't know how to swim.

However, I took comfort in knowing that she probably couldn't either. Hopefully, I could use that to my advantage, not the other way around.

"No," I replied simply, throwing the knife up into the air and catching it in my other hand.

I knew I was showing off, but I wanted her to be scared. I wanted dear little Anya to beg for mercy, to be on her knees as I faced her with my weapon, ready to kill. I wanted to see the hope and light leave her face when she felt my knife plunge into her ice cold heart.

"You don't want to do this, Ken," she warned me, testing the weight of her sword. I tilted my head and pretended to think for a moment.

"Don't I?"

"I'm not somebody you want to mess with. You know that. Don't make a stupid mistake," she told me, but I just narrowed my eyes at her. I knew that I wasn't a killer, but she had murdered my friend and betrayed us; that was something that was never worth my forgiveness.

"You made the stupid mistake when you back-stabbed our _friend," _I spat venomously, seeing if the word would have any effect on her; it did. Her eyes widened and looked shocked as her glinting blade clattered to the ground.

"I was there when you killed Wolf. I saw, with my very own eyes, how you cut him open and tore out his organs. He asked why you betrayed him, but you only said you wanted to win. What did you tell Derek, Anya? Did you tell him that you wanted to win too?" I asked, tears pricking sadly in my eyes, but I blinked them away.

I didn't want her to think I was just a weak little girl with anger management issues; that was her, not me.

"They died for nothing. Do you know why?" I asked, but she shook her head. I leant in close; no longer scared of the girl I had once called my ally. "Because you aren't going to win," I whispered, my grin getting possibly even bigger.

The wave was getting louder as I heard the water knock down even more trees on its way. I looked back to my opponent, and smiled. She seemed to know exactly what was going to happen, too. I threw my knife, letting it dig itself into her stomach. I heard her petrified gasp of pain as I grabbed hold of her arm, and pushed her into the upcoming waters.

Thankfully, I couldn't hear her screams underneath the water, but I saw the bubbles rise like panic.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and turned to see Ruse and Keira May looking at me solemnly. A cannon sounded, and they nodded. They knew that I had to do it; they knew she had to pay her price.

District 9: Brook Callins - 59 hours

I was running, and this time, I had no ally running beside me. I hated seeing the cornucopia again, especially as there were three tributes standing on top of it; one armed with arrows, another with darts, and another with throwing knives.

Ouch.

I looked left and right, just as I felt the wave crash down on top of me, cutting off my air supply. I gasped for breath, but instead inhaled a bucket-load of salty tasting water.

I attempted to doggy paddle, but I had never learnt to swim. They never taught us in school just how hard it was to keep your head above the water. I splashed frantically, waiting to either be dragged under the surface by the force of the wave, or for an arrow or knife to end my misery.

But neither came. I felt the water slowly receding around me, and I appeared, gasping, on the ground of the arena.

Around me were sixteen other tributes; it meant that two had died already. I looked around, wondering who was missing. But my brain was too water-clogged to process the scared and determined faces. I shakily stood up and shook the water droplets from my hair.

We were stood in a circle, much like we were in the original bloodbath, but this time it was purely coincidence. To my left was my district partner, who indeed looked as scared as I felt. I didn't want to kill Tristan; I wanted to survive, yes, but I wasn't one to stab my friend in the back.

On my right was Ashton from 10. I had sworn I had seen a Gamemaker trick after him, but maybe he killed it.

Opposite us were the careers, who seemed to have separated into separate groups now and the big alliance. There were only three left from the original six.

Next to them were Gisli and Somber, an alliance I wouldn't have put together. On the careers other side were Mylene and Rosemary, yet another unlikely pair. Finally, next to my remaining district partner, were the group of three girls still standing on top of the cornucopia.

Hopefully, the alliances would leave me alone. Somehow though, I didn't see that as a likely option.

Almost as if another gong had rung out, we all moved at the same time, everyone going for different targets. I didn't concentrate on anyone else though; just saw the determination in the eyes of the tributes in front of me. They had all struck me as the one group who wouldn't hurt me, but they must've thought I was the best target to take down, if any.

I backed away as the group of three cornered me, my back pressed against the giant, golden horn. They looked quite scared and sad, but one girl, the one remaining tribute from 5, leant close to me.

She whispered words of comfort in my ear, and explained. "The careers are planning to take down those on their own. I'm sorry, Brook, but this is the best way," Keira May murmured, tears pricking in her eyes as though she felt _sorry _that she was going to kill me.

Some people might accept a mercy killing and think that it was for the best, but I did not.

"You're not going to kill me," I replied, looking into her eyes. I smiled, full of danger, and yet, it wasn't full of hate. Keira May was a nice person; I knew that. I just wasn't ready to die yet, at the young age of just fourteen.

It didn't seem right; none of this did.

"I have to. You don't want to die like they did," she told me harshly, and I thought that she had friends who had died, too. The boy from 7 and her district partners. Maybe she was right; I didn't want to die like they did. I didn't want to die in this arena.

"No; I don't," I said, pretending as though I was accepting my fate, and ducking my head in shame. I waited for the blow, well, acted as though I was.

At the last moment, I jumped away, causing Keira May's weapon to scrape ear-splittingly down the golden metal cornucopia.

I ran, the knife in my sweating hand feeling painfully heavy. I looked behind me, checking that they weren't chasing me. It should have been my first and only mistake; it wasn't. I turned back to see where I was going, and gasped. She was standing in front of me, her eyes wide.

It was Kendal, her face scared and her hands grasping for something she couldn't find. Eventually, she found the hilt of the knife, my knife that she was looking desperately for protruding out of her stomach. She looked at it in disbelief, and back up at me, as though she was watching a ping pong match.

"I'm sorry; it's the best way," I murmured, knowing that I was mimicking her ally's words, but I couldn't think of what else to say. Maybe she would've made it further; maybe the careers would've got her before she could.

Ruse and Keira May looked at me, sadness and anger in their haunted eyes.

"It was her or me. I wasn't ready to die," I explained simply and softly, before taking one last, heart-breaking look at the dying tribute. Keira dropped down, holding Kendal's hand in one last ditch attempt to take away the pain.

Her loud cannon sounded shortly after, but I had already left the mourning scene.

The fights were still going on, but all I could do was watch and wait, and hope that the wave will finally cease, taking the blood with it.

District 4: Storm Marlinfield - 62 hours 

It was strange, watching the tributes gather yet again. I had to close my eyes, long enough for Marylin to shake and shout, to block out the nightmares sure to come crawling back. I couldn't help but wonder exactly how Casey would deal with this.

She always teased that I was too soft, growing up as a career.

Would she have been sitting with a Capitol person, letting them cuddle up to her like he had done too? Would she have never faced the memories, and never learnt to move on? Would she watch re-runs a year later, she so that she could see my face again? Would she have thought of me every single waking and sleeping hour?

I knew the answer. She wouldn't.

She would fight everything all the way, knowing I would've wanted her to live, not just survive. My Casey would be strong; I knew that much, because that's what she always was. When the four of us were facing death, she was the strong one. My beautiful Casey, so strong, so broken. Held together by the simple will to live, and live happily. She might have thought that she was a good liar, but I had always seen through her lies.

She was as scarred then as I was now.

"Storm, can you help me with the dishes?" Amelia asked me, catching me by surprise and tearing me away from my self- pitying thoughts. I looked up, but obeyed the tall, brown haired girl. I shot Mary a quick smile which she responded quickly to, blowing me a kiss and mouthing the words "Be back soon".

We washed and dried in silence in her massive kitchen, moving around, never touching like they do in the movies.

Where they reach for the same spoon and their hands touch, then they jerk away and realise they're in love because they chose that moment to pick up a spoon. Instead, we mainly kept out of each other's way.

"I know that I'm a heart-less Capitol viewer. I know that I will never live through what you have, but I understand. I'll never truly accept it or in any way know what it's like to be a tribute, but I understand, somehow," Amelia broke the silence suddenly.

Anger rose in my chest.

"How? You watch the Games for entertainment. How can you even begin to imagine what it's like to be in them?" I asked her, trying to keep as much hate and malice out of my voice as possible.

I was bought up to love the Capitol; but I had grown to hate it.

"While Marylin might be able to sleep through everything and anything, I'm not deaf enough to block out your screams," Amelia told me harshly, but I heard the sadness and pity that I didn't want in her voice. I understood too though; she was talking about my nightmares, that I might be able to keep at bay in the day, but smother me like a hand around my neck at night.

"When are you going home Storm?" Amelia asked, her tone full of disdain. But then she added something I never thought I would hear from her lips. "They're waiting for you. They want you back with your family, where you belong."

Her voice was so tender and kind, I was frozen with disbelief.

"I don't know. My... duty is here in the Capitol, with Mary," I answered, the last words coming automatically now. I had to make people believe that I was in love with her, or liked her at least. I realised my mistake too late.

"Your _duty? _Your duty is to your family and your home, not Mary." Amelia would, could, never know how the two were exactly the same thing. Before, my duty was to Casey and my allies. Now, it was to what remained of my family. They could never know what I was forced to do when Marylin kept me awake at night. Casey could never know.

As if Amelia could read my thoughts, she murmured as not to be over heard, "I can bring her back Storm. Maybe, just maybe, I can bring her back, at least for a while."

I studied her, my first question was why? But I knew that she wouldn't tell me, so I settled for second best.

"How?"

* * *

Yes, cliff hangers love me, I hate them, you hate them, but I just can't stop without them! Who was killed... how will Amelia get back Casey?

Remember to leave a (nice and wonderful) review, for me? And of course, it's my first update of the year 2011! Maybe an extra long review for an extra long chapter? Thanks for everything guys!


	22. Don't Look Back Part 3: Goodbye

The flood to sweep away all hope... will it clean the blood of our tributes' hands... or will the danger turn the water red... soon, it will all be over... the final moments are just waiting to begin. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show.

Main Characters: Sequin Allure, Mimi Madeline Lombardi, Tristan Workle, Trista Angel, Somber Thrax.

* * *

District 1: Sequin Allure - 63 hours into the Games (5am)

_Kick. Scratch. Bite. Hit. Cut. Scrape. Bruise. Punch. Kill. The same cycle over and over again, fighting as Floyd's hands secured even tighter around my thin neck. Kick. Scratch. Bite. Hit. Cut. Scrape. Bruise. Punch. Kill._

_Poor guy. He didn't know what he was getting himself into when he agreed to my plan. I wasn't going to let him kiss me, and get away with it. That just wasn't me, and everybody knew it. I admit, I hadn't seen the blow coming when he grabbed me, but really, I think he didn't know what was happening. He just grabbed the person nearest to him._

_Poor guy. He hadn't even known why I was close to him anyway, or why my knife was already in my hand when he attacked me. What can I say? I'm a back-stabber._

_And just as I felt my air being blocked, my mouth gasping for breath I didn't have, I unleashed my secret weapon. I wasn't being stupid when I "requested" that heels be put onto my tight, thigh-high black boots. I was thinking ahead._

_I jammed my 4 inch heel into Floyd's foot, making him yell in pain. Blood was spurting out of the wound like a little red fountain. He jumped backwards, clutching his foot in pain. I smiled, my back still facing him. I turned, very slowly so that he could get the effect in perspective, and pointed a finger at him. He was still hopping like the idiot he was. _

_I pushed his chest with a still perfectly manicured nail, just slightly. He toppled over, and I blew him a kiss as he fell._

_"See, sweetheart? I warned you, but you just didn't listen." I shook my head in mock- disappointment, looking down at my "lover". But my acting skills needed improving, because I just couldn't keep the shark smile off of my perfect face._

_"Well, honey, I think I could take you," Floyd breathed, stumbling to his feet, or good foot. He raised the spear in his hand that I hadn't before known was there. I took back the last comment about my acting skills as I trembled in fear, and fell backwards onto the ground. It was Floyd's turn to smile, or so he thought. This was cake. _

_Just as he was about to "kill" me with his weapon, and jumped up and kicked the spear away from him. I pushed him, hard, causing him to fall onto the floor in pain. _

_Maybe, hopefully, he broke an arm or something on his way down. _

_"Ah, baby, you never did see what was right... in... front... of... your... nose." I tapped his nose with every word, smiling sweetly like a fallen angel. He scowled at me; a glare worthy of myself. I sighed, and the smile slipped off of my face._

_"It's a shame; we could've been great together." _

_I nodded at a place behind Floyd's back, and Ivory kicked the tribute, hard, in the head. It reminded me of what Casey Ellison did to that girl, Isabelle from 1, last year. But this time, it was career vs. career._

_"Told ya so; I _always _think ahead," I whispered, before whipping out my knife. He wasn't knocked out, but Ivory's kick had caused blood to drip from his ears and for his body to sway slightly. He wouldn't be conscious for long, so I would have to work quickly. And he was lucky for it. _

_I started by carving tear drops into his cheeks, and a small pair of lips just below his ear. Floyd screamed, which was the only thing he could do as I pushed him back to the ground, holding his torso down with my knees. _

_It would seem too repetitive to write "loser" on his forehead after Michael, but maybe that would be my signature way of killing. Yes, I would be remembered for being the winner, and putting my fallen opponents in their place. _

_And so, I decided to write the word on Floyd's furrowed forehead, taking pleasure in the way his blood seeped into the wounds already on his face. _

_After feeling satisfied with his wounds, I moved down to his hands. I did a simple scrape on his palms at first; looking as though his hands were stained red. Then, I cut open his shirt and looked to where his heart would be. I slowly, and carefully, drew a love heart, drawing out the process as he screamed and cried. _

_I considered cutting out his heart, but that would be too easy, simple, quick. I needed to make Floyd feel pain, I decided. _

_I covered his body with patterns and designs, proud of my artwork as I stepped back and admired it. I had always been a good artist. _

_He was close to bleeding to death, but I had one last thing I wanted to do before ending his pitiful, little life. I leant in close, and forced open Floyd's eyes. I placed a kiss on his bloody red lips, tasting the blood dripping down my chin and into my mouth and tongue. It was everywhere, but I didn't mind. _

_This way, everyone would learn not to mess with me. _

_"Night, night, dahling," I murmured, resisting the temptation to lick my lips. A cannon sounded, and I faced my other... enemies. I couldn't be bothered to count how many there were. But I always planned ahead, and grinned, showing the blood to every tribute left in the arena. Yes; they should be scared. _

I could still feel the sensation of blood in my mouth as I ran, and the taste was metallic and welcoming. I wasn't turning insane; I always seemed to have a side to me that just loved to kill and cause pain.

That was the career inside me talking.

District 3: Mimi Madeline Lombardi - 64 hours

We all stood, back to back, in triangle formation, facing the other tributes.

Cori's bow was loaded with arrows made to kill, Lacey had her poisonous darts at the ready, and I flipped my knife through my fingers expertly as I watched Floyd, Anya and Kendal die before our eyes. I had the weight of District 3 on my shoulders now.

We were all just children, however, and most of us didn't want to kill, with the exception of the careers of course. But parts of them didn't want to commit, even though that part was probably just as small as Sequin's brain.

3 down in less than a few hours. Now we stood, almost in a circle, for the battle to end the lives of at least two more tributes.

The thing was I didn't want one of those two tributes to be me. I didn't want one or both of those tributes to be Lacey or Cori. We could defend ourselves, yes, but there were bodies in graves that could defend themselves, once. I only hoped that our little alliance of three would come out of this battle as just that; an alliance of three. Not two or somebody on their own.

We were the ones ready to fight.

And so, as I watched the battlefield, with tributes reaching for swords and knives, arrows being loaded into bows, scythes shaking in hands and darts being dipped in nightlock, I had to choose my target.

I didn't want to; I wanted for everyone but the careers to come out of here unscathed. But we all knew that that wasn't going to happen. Ever.

"Who do ya think we should go for?" Cori asked, mimicking my own thoughts. Lacey looked physically sick as she scanned the arena once more, her gaze never lasting long on some of the nicer tributes. I felt her same pain. Lacey surprised me when she said her answer.

"Really?" Cori asked, making sure that our ally wasn't joking with us.

"I'm sure. She won't be able to last much longer. It would be... it would be nicer to let her go now."

Tears swam in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall as she held up her dart, inspecting the deep purple liquid dripping slightly off of the tip.

"The careers will get her eventually; you have to understand that, Lace," I murmured, hoping that nobody as was listening as they made their silent strategies. The only alliances left seemed to be very good at remaining quiet now.

We all nodded in agreement, and we all knew who deserved to die if we were successful afterwards. I knew, at least.

Michael had been my friend, and I wasn't going to let him sleep forever without being in peace, knowing that I avenged his death. He deserved that much.

"Guys, shall we just say that the gong's sounded already?" A small, but loud and arrogant, voice called out to all of us. I suppose we were all just standing there, and without any deaths soon, the Gamemakers were sure to step the Game up a bit.

In the one moment that followed Isabella's comment, everyone burst into movement and life. Ironic, but that was Panem. Like when things are poisonous, food killed you in the Hunger Games. Sometimes, the Capitol's ideas of jokes were sick.

"Bang," Trista whispered, but we could hear her even on top of the cornucopia. Maybe the Gamemakers magnified her voice or something. The fights began.

I saw Gisli chase after Mylene; maybe she figured that her cousin killed her brother, but I didn't really know or care was Gisli was thinking. Mylene was laughing as she darted around the golden horn, both opposite the other, both appearing at different sides each time.

If it wasn't the Hunger Games, it would be comical.

Ruse leapt at Brook, his eyes half crazed. Keira May was trying to either hold him back or help him, I couldn't tell. All three were fighting for their lives, but trying to be nice about it. They never injured or tried to cause pain; they were going in for the quick kill.

Sequin and Ivory had Rosemary cornered, and she was whimpering as her knife shook in her hand. At the last moment, just before Ivory's arrow was about to pierce her eye, she flew straight through Sequin's legs, and took off running to help her ally.

Trista and Isabella were stalking Tristan, who seemed unaware of the two careers on his trail. He was trying to sneak away unnoticed, it seemed. I knew all too well that that plan never worked, especially when all the other tributes were around you. I saw Isabella break off from her ally, and move through the trees to cut him off.

Ashton seemed unsure of what to do, and simply watched the battle with a strange expression on his face, in between amusement and disgust. I thought about shooting him, but he would put up a fight.

Maybe, when it came to the final eight and he was still alive, then I would consider killing him. But not now. Not yet.

Our target looked determined to do something, but didn't exactly know what. She switched between fights, knowing that Gisli wanted to battle alone, and the fact that nobody would understand why she would want to help them. Somber Thrax seemed completely lost.

I readied my knives, twiddling them around my thumbs, and aiming for her heart. Cori did the same with her bow and arrows, and Lacey hesitantly loaded her pea-shooter with her signature deadly darts.

That's when Somber just... disappeared. Literately. It was like there was a whole in the ground had appeared; she was there, and then she was gone.

The thing was I had already thrown my knife. Just before it hit her head, it kept on travelling, cutting through thin air. And kept on flying, straight into the heart of somebody I hadn't wanted to kill. She was too kind, too sweet, to be murdered.

Keira May gasped, and Keira May fell. Keira May screamed, and Keira May cried. Keira May shuddered, and Keira May whispered. Keira May went still, and Keira May died. Goodbye, Keira May.

District 9: Tristan Workle - 66 hours

I was so sure that I had escaped. I was so sure that I had managed to trick the tributes, the Gamemakers, and get away from their "big" fight. They wouldn't be pleased, yes, but I'd rather face any mutt than the careers.

I looked behind me, trying to make sure that they hadn't sent anything after me yet. I saw nothing but the rustle of leaves, and turned back around just as I was faced with something terrifyingly solid and warm; and plus, trees weren't usually that short.

"You should really look where you're going," a voice whispered from in front of me, and I tripped over in surprise. Above me stood my worst nightmare; a career with attitude. Isabella looked down on me, her boot just slightly pressing into my back. I bit back my urge to scream, and swallowed the fear that was welling up inside of me.

My boomerang was pressing into my side from where it hung on my belt, making my head try to form a plan. It failed miserably. I shakily stood up to face my opponent, no longer feeling the weapon there. It felt better not to have its sharp edges in my flesh, but I needed it now. But in the moment where I swivelled round to hold it, my hands grasped simple air.

I fumbled around my belt, and my eyes scanned the floor. My only weapon, my only defence, had disappeared before my eyes.

"Looking for this?" A distant, dreamy voice said from behind me, and I twisted around to see another career mocking me, holding my boomerang just out of my reach. I was trapped, like an animal faced with two predators.

"As I said, it's stupid to close your eyes. Even for a second. Because a second is all it takes for you to lose hope," Isabella warned me, putting one black, thigh-high boot in front of the other, and stalking towards me, as elegant as an angry kitten ready to pounce.

"Lily would have liked a kitten," Trista Angel said in that half insane, half calm voice of hers. I realised I must have spoken my last few thoughts aloud.

"An angry kitten, huh?" Isabella teased, stepping forwards, slowly, again. Her smile grew possibly even wider as her breath tingled on my skin, even though I could tell she had to stand on tiptoes to reach my ear.

"Oh no. More like a murderous lioness going in for the kill."

The thing was, I saw no weapon on her. There was no sword, no bow, no spear, no knife. And yet she was standing close enough to kiss me, even though she was virtually defenceless.

Then I saw a flash of something sitting in her palm. "You don't think I would threaten to kill you without being completely sure that I would succeed? Really, your view of me is very poor," she scolded, and she lifted her hand to show me her weapon. It was just a rock. A simple rock with jagged edges.

"You... you can't kill me with that," I said, unsure of what to do. She could strangle me, but we both knew I was stronger. Trista stood watching us from the fringes of the fight, ready to move. Maybe the miniature career really did know what she was doing.

"Can't I?" She whispered, possible getting even closer, and it felt like she was about to kiss, or bite, my neck. Then I felt the tip of something sharp in my stomach, and I collapsed at her feet.

The simple rock stuck out of me, dripping blood.

"Even is you don't die of blood loss, that rock must be infected with a billion different bacteria. You'll be dead before you even realise what was happening," Isabella said, a small curve of a smile playing on her pink lips.

"Lionesses protect their family. You are not a lioness, Bella," I murmured, looking up as my killer's eyes grey from a light, bluish colour to a stormy grey.

"I would be offended by that comment, but you and your death mean nothing to me. The thing that really bugs me is when people call me Bella." And with that last sentence, she tore the rock from my stomach, letting the blood flow freely and quickly.

I felt the life drain from me, and I wondered what good it did me to survive the bloodbath. What good did it do me to survive just two more days?

None.

District 2: Trista Angel - 68 hours 

"My first kill," Isabella said distractedly, her grey eyes wary and wide as she watched the sky. It was still morning, just, and the sky was a light blue, almost natural.

_You would watch the sky, Lily, _I thought to myself, my eyes trained on the artificial clouds above.

"'Bout time, too," I told her teasingly, pointedly staying away from the words Bella and ginger. They say that every person has a trigger to send them over the edge, and careers are made by those triggers. I was yet to find out what mine was, but I just kept reminding myself that Isabella was auburn, not ginger.

"Says the one career whose hit list is blank," she replied, mocking me in a way that was stretching the line, but not completely stepping over it. Her toe was close though, and she knew it.

But Isabella Rose lived on the edge. However, that just made it all too easy for somebody to push her off.

"I've heard four cannons so far," Isabella commented, counting out the deaths on her fingers. We hadn't intervened when we both saw Floyd reach for Sequin's neck; the outcome of that fight was obvious. We had seen Kendal, calm, collected Kendal, stab and push Anya into the water. And then she was killed by the girl from District 9. Then Somber disappeared, and Keira May became the target for the trio of girls.

"Something isn't right," I murmured, looking around the autumn area of the arena, as if searching for a sign, something to indicate that we were just being lead in the wrong direction. But there was nothing but the rustle of red leaves as my answer.

"That tidal wave should have halved our numbers. There should be 9 or 10 people left standing, not fifteen."

This wasn't right; the Capitol and the Gamemakers would be yearning for more blood, and not just that of the mutts. They wanted a proper battle, not one that looks like it's going to be amazing, and isn't.

It was just like the end of the old Panem book, Breaking Dawn. The idea of vampires and special powers was stupid of course, but that fight at the end was stupid. I didn't know how the foster children found it, but they did.

"I expect we'll be hearing Claudius Templesmith's voice rather soon, don't you?" Isabella said fake-happily, the rock in her hand falling to the ground with a thud as she discarded it. She would find another, like she always did.

She didn't care for such mediocre weapons as spears and arrows.

We sat in silence afterwards, but it wasn't awkward. We could do that, despite Isabella's obvious big mouth, arrogant attitude and chatterbox personality.

And then there was an inhumane sound that came from the depths of the forest. It sounded like a wounded animal. "Did you hear that?" I whispered, edging closer to my ally slightly. She didn't see my movement, and nodded cautiously. She didn't look scared; just curious and determined as always.

Then, just from across the forest, there was a movement, and something rose up from the shrubbery. It was a pincer- like object, poison or another liquid dripping from the end of its tail.

The mutt was the Dragorpion we had seen attack Mylene and Rosemary. It was back for more.

Everything happened so quickly, my brain barely had seconds to process it. Isabella was fighting back with a strength I had never seen before, and injured it, I suspected. It grabbed hold of Isabella's ankle, and flew her across the clearing and into a tree; no scorpion or dragon should have been able to do that.

It scuttled over to me, and I closed my mouth, not admitting defeat and screaming. I felt a blinding pain, then nothing.

My last thought was, _Lily would be brave. Lily would be fearless. Lily would fight. Lily wouldn't let tracker jacker poison control her. _

District 7: Somber Thrax - 71 hours 

_I looked up just to see a knife fly towards me, piercing through the air. I was prepared to feel it slice into my heart, but nothing came. Only the sensation of falling greeted me. The ground seemed to swallow me up, taking me with it as it just collapsed. Then; darkness. _

I had been sitting in the cornucopia for a while now, still unable to move. I had been falling for what seemed like hours, and ended up inside the cornucopia, where the fight had ceased and the other tributes were nowhere to be seen.

I didn't even know if my ally was alive or dead.

I had been immobile for at least two hours now, and I didn't know whether it was from my fall, or simply a Gamemaker trick, or an illusion. Either way, I couldn't move.

Watching the line of trees, Jayy's face came into my head. Handsome Jayy, funny Jayy, very-much-alive Jayy. Plain Somber, distant Somber, very-almost-dead Somber. Incompatible; incomprehensible; unimaginable; unthinkable. And yet, I still liked him. But who was I kidding? I more than liked him. What I felt for Jayy bordered on unrequited love.

And yet, I could never do that to Zinith. Pretty Zinith, humorous Zinith, not-ever-reaped Zinith. My two best friends for as long as any of us could remember - the inseparable trio all through school. And then I felt so left out when my two best friends started going out.

That was it for me.

It would have been hard enough to tell Jayy I wanted to be more than friends. But then, I would never, could never, hurt Zinith like that. And now, I was trapped in the Hunger games, and the only way I would ever get out was to kill somebody. Then, Jayy and Zinith would never look at me with the same eyes again.

A voice ringing through the arena tore me away from my thoughts, and I blushed as I realised what had been going through my mind. I blushed even harder when I noticed that nobody knew what I was thinking, at all.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this year, we have yet another special treat. I would like to welcome the final fifteen to a special feast, where there will be something you _desperately _need or want. Ladies and gentlemen, if I were you, I wouldn't hold back."

Claudius Templesmith's voice was loud in the invisible speakers, and I felt my eyes widen. The feast was always held in the centre of the arena; held where the cornucopia was.

* * *

Ohh, cliff hanger alert! So, what did you guys think of yet another long chapter? Good? I hope so! Don't you just love it when I viciously murder completely innocent tributes really brutally? So do I.

And a moment of silence for those dead in this chapter: Floyd Barabe, Keira May Winters and Tristan Workle. All amazing characters, whether nice or career.


	23. Never Say Never Part 1: In the end

**They thought it was all over... they believed that there would be only four deaths that day... but they were wrong. The feast... heaven disguised as a living hell... who will triumph in their final moments? Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show. WARNING: May contain swearing. **

**Main Characters: Isabella Rose, Ivory Noire, Rosemary Angel, Bea Happel, Ammy Namery. **

District 2: Isabella Rose - 72 hours (2pm)

_What was the point? The little girl had everything. Everything she would ever need, ever want. But she didn't care. She didn't care for her precious training, or her jewels, or her friends, or her family, or such materialistic things as clothes. The little girl didn't care anymore. _

_So what was the point? She fought for her life, battled day after day in _preparation _for the Games. Why? Why did they deserve to be any better than the other districts? Why were the careers feared, when their method only worked sometimes? _

_What was the point? One or both of the tributes would die. So why did they train to be the winners, when over half would never return? Why did they train to be slaughtered? _

_The little girl was still too little to understand everything. She looked up to her sister, despised her mother, made puppy dog eyes at her father, laughed with her "friends". Back then, that was all she felt. No need to kill, just to main, or seriously ingure. The little girl wasn't a killer; yet. So what was the point in training for death or corruption? _

_Fame, fortune. The little girl already had that. So what was the point in volunteering? _

_The glory. The little girl should have been too young to want such things, but she was a career. Glory was her middle name, along with brutal and murderer. But she didn't know that yet. She just wanted to be the best. She just wanted the glory. _

I wanted to be that girl. I wanted to be brave, and nieve, and full of the need for glory. I wanted to be the girl who didn't care for anybody else, who could laugh and joke and never really mean it, the girl who was on top. But I wasn't that girl. Everything had changed in those three days. Just three days, and that girl was gone.

Isabella Rose, trainee career and popular teenager, was gone. She was whole, and smiling, and arrogent, and cold. Isabella Rose, District 2 tribute and ally to Trista Angel, was here now. She was broken, and crying, and caring, and cold. Isabella Rose wasn't meant to care. But she did; and that was what broke her.

I sighed, and leant over my screaming ally. Over and over again, the same haunting name ringing in my ears. _Lily. Are you Lily? Lily, where are you? Lily. Where's my Lily? _Poor, little Trista Angel, her angel watching over us now. And her crying mother drowning in her own tears.

"Lily!" Trista yelled again, and I covered my ears from the close proximity. I wanted to help her, but I couldn't, until that announcement. The announcement that made me jump with joy, sending my ally into another downward spiral of screams. But I could help her. I would help her.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, this year, we have yet another special treat. I would like to welcome the final fourteen to a special feast, where there will be something you desperatly need or want. Ladies and gentlemen, if I were you, I wouldn't hold back." _

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard, because it would keep Trista alive. It could save her. I could, and would, save her. This was my time in the spotlight, but not as a victor, or arrogent brat. This was my time in the spotlight as a heroine.

And so, I propped Trista up against a tree, smiled at her carefully, took away any weapons so that she wouldn't hurt herself, and ran.

I didn't know what made me run as though it was _my _life I wanted to save, that _I _was depending on myself. Maybe the feeling of care had messed with my fragile mind, but the need to look important and special and arrogent and cold still overwhelmed me. And so, I brushed at my tears, took in a deep breath, and had the cornucopia in my sights.

I saw more blobs appearing in the distance from different areas, and all I thought was _repetitve, repetitive, repetitive. _Who would want to watch a virtually identical fight, with virtually the same tributes, in the space of a few hours? This was stupid, boring even. I would find myself yawning soon, and I was the one in the fight.

Eventually, all tributes apart from Trista had gathered, some only standing at the line of trees, refusing to move forward. There was a figure sitting actually inside the cornucopia, the girl from District 7. I shook my head, and didn't even ask how that had happened.

There were a few more alliances intact; the three girls, Ivory and Sequin, the girls from 4 and 6, and the girl in the golden horn and the one who had a brother who died last year. Then there was me and Trista, Brook from 9, that quiet boy from 10, and blood-boy from 11. That was what we, Trista and I, had started to call him after hearing him scream about blood on his hands. I had been guilty after killing, but I wasn't crazy in this insane arena.

There were two tables that, from what I could see, had different objects on top of them. They both had food, but one had envleopes and various weapons, and the other had little boxes and packs and protection gear like shields, wires and jackets.

I cautiously walked over to one table, and I found that it had little names written on it. One of them was mine. I supposed that each table had half of the tributes' names written on, and that that was where our goods would be. Just as I was about to reach out and touch a pack, the only one there, there was an announcement.

"Congratulations! You lucky thirteen have made it to the final feast! But there is a twist. There are at least two tributes wanting the same object. There is only one copy of that object. Enjoy your champion's table!" I was just about ready to deck Claudius in the head by the end of his long winded speech. If I was ever allowed to see him, I wouldn't hesitate to aim a kick in his gut, or somewhere a bit lower.

I looked around to find somebody looking at the same item I had my eyes trained on. I thought I had heard a scream earlier, but had dismissed it. I did wonder why Lacey was looking so pale, and limping. I didn't know what had happened, but I guessed that it wasn't pretty. And so, I would have to fight Mimi Madeline Lombardi; to the death.

I only realised then that the two tables had moved completely apart, almost on opposite sides of the cornucopia now. I tore off in the direction of my prize, feeling the presence of somebody coming up behind me. Mimi was also going in for the kill.

The only thing that really drove me towards that feast, marked with my name, was the thought of Trista in pain. She was like the sister I had, but actually wanted. She would be the one person in this arena that, with my knife poised over her heart, I would hesitate in killing.

My arm reached across for the little, life-saving pack, but I felt Mimi's knife dig into my flesh, and I let out an angry roar of pain. I swung around, a new fury in my eyes. People say that they changed from a light grey to a stormy sky in seconds. By the look on my opponent's face, that had just happened.

"You'll regret that, Lombardi," I hissed, my words like knives being thrown in her direction. She winced, just as the knife, her knife, turned on her. Mimi cried out, her screams loud as she kicked her legs in a feeble attempt to... to what? Her death was inevitable. Another opponent down, but at what cost? Mimi was dead, Trista would be alive.

But in the end, bliss was brief in this world. In the end, the best tribute would win.

District 1: Ivory Noire - 74 hours 

"Damn them," I muttered, launching myself onto the back of Mylene as I scrabbled to hold onto the shield in my hand. Despite being good friends with Sequin now, I still didn't trust her. I would need something to protect myself with, if it came down to it.

"You're already damned," Mylene uttered back, throwing me to the floor. I kind of forgot that she was a career. I snarled at her from my place at her feet, and kicked up. Stupid bitch. Didn't she know that I would win this fight and the prize?

"You will never win this," the District 4 tribute said, her eyes blazing and teeth grinding together. I narrowed my eyes, and got an arrow from the sheath on my back. I couldn't just fire it at such close range; I had to plunge it into her heart myself.

"Just because your stupid cousin's a victor doesn't mean you're royalty," I sneered, smiling as she backed up a few steps in surprise. I grinned, showing my perfect white teeth, shivering almost as I remembered the sight of blood dripping from Sequin's mouth.

"Just because you're stupid doesn't mean you're royalty, asscake," Mylene replied, twisting my words against me. I hated it when people did that. Wait, asscake? That was new.

I lashed out, and my fist connected with her jaw. The girl went flying, landing on the table and causing various plates to crack. I stepped over her and pulled her hair, and she almost growled as she clawed at my eyes.

"Cat-fight! Cat-fight!" We both turned to see where the cheering was coming from. Ash from ten stood a few metres away from us, his back resting on the cornucopia and his arms crossed. He winked at both of us, and started his shouts again just as the fight launched back into action.

"That's right, get her hair Mylene! Come on Ivory, you can hit harder than that!" It was strange, because the District 10 tribute's calls actually spurred me on, as I kicked at my opponent with enough force to break bone, if she would stop moving, that is.

"Dadada! Mylene! Dadada!" Ashton shouted from the sidelines, clapping as he did so. I sneered in his direction, and pushed my elbow into her head.

"Give me an I, give me a V, give me an O, give me an R, give me a Y, what does that spell? Loser!" He was seriously pushing the boundries now as I was tempted to break off from the fight and send an arrow into his head.

"Shut up, Samuels," I growled, kicking Mylene hard in the shin. She yelped, and fought back even harder.

"You'll pay for this, Noire," she growled. I looked at her questionably.

"For what?"

"Being what you are; a career. You love killing, and it just doesn't seem right. We all want to go home and feel our arms around our family again, but also feel guilt, remorse. People are dying, and you like it." I pondered her words. Was I really that heartless? Did I like killing, like Sequin or Floyd? Did I feel any remorse?

"That's right. And that's why you'll die today," I growled, but I was so busy thinking if I could live if I won, that I didn't see it strick out.

Her simple knife against my quiver of arrows. Her ignorance against my intelligence. Her gentle smile against my cold sneer. Her empty threats against my harsh words. Her simple training against my years of pratise.

And yet, in the midst of it all, little Mylene Frostblight from District 4 won, in the end.

And I fell to the ground, a knife in my heart, eating away at it. A quiver of arrows still strapped to my back and a bow on the ground beside me, defeated like it's brief owner.

Maybe the best tribute won, in the end.

Maybe glory and life was never supposed to be mine.

Maybe the victor, Ivory Noire, was never meant to be.

District 6: Rosemary Angel - 75 hours 

I didn't know what Nicole would've done. I didn't know if she would cry or laugh, embrasse reality or deny it, fall to her knees or hold her head high. Because my sister was dead. My sister was a ghost continually haunting me, an image at the back of my mind that I just couldn't seem to forget.

And so, I watched, and I waited for death to come. Isabella Rose, well known career, was hovering above me. But for some reason, I wasn't scared. For some reason, I knew that, in the end, the best tribute would have won. I was never the best in this arena. Nicole was never the best in her's. And so, together we died.

_"Nicole?" A figure watched me, eyes wide and blonde hair a halo on her small head. She didn't look any different from the day she said goodbye. Her hair was curled into soft ringlets, her eyes were twinkling and her mouth was curved into a subtle smile. _

_She was an angel. I had known this from birth, of course, but now it wasn't just a name, an identity. She was a truely brilliant being, clothed in white silk, a pair of wings hovering on her back, a radiant glow showering her every move. Beautiful. _

_"Hello, Rosemary," she replied softly, her voice like heaven's bells. It chimed in my ears, ringing there for what seemed like an eternity. For all I knew, it could've been. _

_"How... what... when... who... where are we, Cole?" I stuttered, finally taking in my surroundings. Everything was white and shining, with voices in the distance with no visible owners, and laughter around every corner. _

_"You know, sister. You can feel it," she whispered, brandishing her hands wide and taking in the beauty around and in her. And I could feel it; the power and the happiness and the simplicity. And the feeling of... forever. Just the knowledge that once you come here, nothing else will change. You will be here forever. _

_"Heaven," I murmered in surprise, closing my eyes against the lights one time, and taking a deep breath. Even the place smelt of contentment. _

_"Yes, sister. You've made it; you've finally made it. We've been waiting, and time in heaven changes. It usually feels as though days are just seconds, weeks are just minutes, months are just hours. But when you were thrown into that arena like an animal going to slaughter, time slowed down in this place. We've been waiting a long time, sister." _

_"Am I an angel?" I asked, unsure of what I wanted the answer to be. If I were an angel, I was dead. Was I dead? I don't remember pain. I don't remember sadness. I don't remember. _

_"Yes, Rosemary. Rosemary Angel, the angel sent to heaven on her own glorious wings." I looked behind me and, sure enough, I could feel the pull of objects on my back. They were beautiful; pure white and soft to the touch. Wings. Real wings that I believed could carry me anywhere. Anywhere, in the confines of heaven's gates. _

_"So I'm definitely dead?" I asked hesitantly, looking around as I did so, and not into the glassy eyes of my long murdered sibling. But when I did, she looked so sad, like a weeping angel. _

_"Yes, sister. Isabella's knife pierced your heart, and mine," Nicole told me wearily, as though breaking the news to me little by little. "But you're here now; you need not return to that place of death and destruction and lies. The world might as well not exist, for it is nothing to us but a distant, hateful memory."_

_"It's not just a memory! As we stay up here, turning out backs on the little people, they are dying!" I shout, not believing my sister's words. _

_I felt a light tear roll down my ghostly pale cheek, and tore at the feathers on my wings. I didn't feel pain, not really, but I imagined that there was a knife plunging into me with every feather that floated to the white ground. _

_Nothing felt right. This wasn't right. None of this was right. How was I supposed to move on for eternity, knowing that Mylene was fighting for her life in the arena destined in kill her? How could I turn my back on my sisters, almost eligable for Reapings and for death?_

_"Mary, my sweet little Mary," Nicole said softly. "All grown up, and I wasn't there to see it." Her pale hand reached out to touch my face, and in that one movement, she convinced me. _

_I looked around me, at the children always faceless and laughing, the old people who can now float with no need of a wheelchair or stick. The pairs of couples, forever young and forever happy. And my sister, smiling sadly as she watched the heaven she had been held capitive in for over a year now. _

_Two Angels sent to heaven in just one year. _

_I heeded her warning, and did not look down on the little world where children were fighting. For when they were too tired to fight anymore, they would join us here. And be happy. _

And so, in the end, I supposed that the best person won. But I joined Nicole, my dead sister. It wasn't life, I wasn't living, but I was happy. No longer a shadow, or an identical face in the mirror, no shell necklace as a haunting memory around my neck. I was Rosemary Angel, and I finally grew my wings.

The Capitol: Bea Happel - 77 hours 

My first day. My first day as trainee Gamemaker. I clapped my hands together as silently as I could, smiled gleefully to myself, straightened my lime green shirt, and waltzed into the room.

There was a long table in the middle, although there were only five other people in the room. Codilious, Head Gamemaker. Maristelale, Gamemaker in charge of the overall arena. Evannatt, Gamemaker in charge of mutts and tricks. Ammy, Gamemaker in charge of weapons and organization. Icyiatus, Gamemaker in charge of screening and cameras. And me.

I crept across the carpeted floor, carrying a small tray of biscuits and a tuna sandwich. I didn't know what the sandwich was for, but I suspected it was going to be used in some design for a Gamemaker trap. I smiled, and pushed my hip against the door to close it.

"Oh!" Icyiatus cried, turning around abruptly. Maristelale jumped forward, and spilt whatever liquid she was carrying onto the equipment. It sizzled, and the sickly smell of liqour came through the fumes of smoke.

"Really? It's only 5 o'clock, Marie." Ammy shook her head, and took the cup away from her friend's hand. We all then turned around to see Evannatt on the floor, a tuna sandwich in his hand. It was an odd sight to say the least.

"And you must be the new vic- I mean, trainee," Codilious said warmly, slipping off her long, leather coat and elaborate hat and placing them onto a stand. She leant back then and whispered softly into my ear, "Don't worry; I'm new too. You'll fit in with ease."

And so I watched the fight, and fought back the need to scream as Ammy messed with various weapons, Maristelale caused it to rain, and Evannatt's Wolfotaur came back for more.

I felt a slight tear prick in my eye, something that hadn't happened for a long time. Life and death, all playing in their hands. The victor, chosen really by them. The outcome of everything, resting on the shoulders of five Capitol people, and me.

I just hoped that the best person won. Because it wasn't me.

The Capitol: Ammy Namery - 78 hours 

"Roll the cameras!" Somebody shouted, and Icyiatus focased and zoomed in on one fight. Three people died in that fight. The girls from 3, 1 and 6. Dead and buried. It was good entertainment though, and the audience were sure to be lapping up all the drama that was happening right now.

It had been a hectic event getting everything sorted. As weapons expert, I had to decide exactly what materials were going to be left out, and exactly who would want them. It was odd to hesitate putting out a trident, but I did so anyway, for Mylene.

A few extra arrows for the archers. A few extra knives and darts for the throwers. A few swords and spears for the careers. And a shedload of the most delightful food, made by the best chefs in the Capitol, with food from 9 and tablecloths from 8 and silverware from 1. Everything was perfect.

"Are we ready?" Maristelale pondered, and we all nodded. Slowly, very slowly, Icy moved the cameras to the other table, the other feast, the other fight. And slowly, very slowly, four more cannons fired in the horizon.

**A moment of silence for those who died in this chapter...Mimi Madeline Lombardi, Ivory Noire and Rosemary Angel - three characters I truely wish that I didn't have to kill. **

**I would just like to mention that this story's sequel, Love Only To Lose, is now posted, and I'm accepting tributes! Please, send in as many as possible!**

**Sorry that this hasn't been updated as early as I would've liked, but I've been ill, been doing endless homework, dealt with various "family and friend issues" and fought off flamers. All in a week's work. I'm so sorry about updates, and I'll be sure to make them more frequent. **

**I really hoped you loved this action packed chapter, and you have no idea how much I cried when I wrote... I can't even pick out a specific part now, all of it was terrible! Forgive me, and I hoped you loved the drama, death and destruction! Remember to review and make it past 400 this time!**

***~Joy~***

**P.S The last bits were supposed to be short, and were just tasters of our beloved Gamemakers and the newbie. **


	24. Never Say Never Part 2: Strong Victims

**Everything's about to change... decisions made once and for all... will they turn away from destiny... or will fate throw them away... will they remember... to never say never? Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show. **

**Main Characters: Mimi Madeline Lombardi (because I'm evil), Ruse Kennedy, Gisli Raylor, Cordelia "Cori" Wren Harlow, Lacey Kalex**

District 3: Mimi Madeline Lombardi - 78 hours (6pm)

Everything happened so quickly. Too quickly. Mimi died before she got a chance to say goodbye. It all happened so quickly. Too quickly.

_Heaven was beautiful, I decided. An idyllic land of white and brilliance and beauty. I liked Heaven; but it wasn't home. _

_I had grown my wings early, souring through the lands and looking down on people long dead, like me. I was dead. I was in a box. I was dressed in my Sunday best. I was dead. I was an angel. I was in heaven. And yet, I still urged to feel pain, to see the smiling faces of my friends. _

_I had first thought that I would see the other dead members of the Hunger Games; and my tribute partners, gone. But heaven was far bigger than I first suspected, and I had only caught a quick glimpse of Michael laughing. Anya... she could've been in Hell for all I knew. _

_That was when I saw her. I had always been taller, even though I was younger. Her pixie haircut was still in place, framing her face perfectly. I could have sworn I saw the glimmer of a halo on her blonde head; but it was gone before I could really acknoledge its presence. _

_Her eyes were so similar to mine, I almost gasped. The were an electric blue, so vibrant against the soft tones of heaven. Vivian always was an angel, in life and in death. My sister's smile always did light up a room, even this shining one. _

_I had tried to forget that time. I had tried to act as though she had never existed, that she was a distant memory, the sister I never had. But nobody remembered when my sister thrown into the 25th Hunger Games arena. Nobody knew the name of poor little Mimi Madeline Lombardi. _

_I never thought of her. It was selfish and cruel, but every time I let myself slip, tears fell from my eyes and my hands would begin to tremble. I never did take lightly to death. And so, when Vivian died in that arena, I knew that I would never recover. And so I played a very cruel pretend. _

_"Vivi?" I asked hesitantly as the person, her slender body drapped in the same white silk as my own, stepped cautiously towards me. Her grin this time was radiant, as she was as graceful in death as she was in life. My sister, ever cautious, ever kind. _

_"You remembered," she said joyfully, spinning in circles with her palms raised to the sky. She was laughing, her giggles so like I remembered them. Airy and light, escaping just for a moment before her smile drooped and her hard line appeared once more. But that was Vivian. _

_"You remember, you remember!" She shouted out again, finally stopping spinning and landing delicatly on her feet. She smiled again at me, before embracing me in such a tight hug that I feared that she would never let me go. _

_And then, her smile was gone, and so was mine. _

_"I don't want to remember," I whispered, running off in a different direction and away from my dead, dead and buried, sister. _

_"I want to play a very cruel pretend." I sat down on soft, bed-like grass and picked a daisy from the ground. I pulled off the petals with a hard tug, and watched them float to the ground as I chanted words. Every petal that fell, a tear joined it. _

_"I remember... I remember not... I remember... I remember not... I remember..." over and over again, until the last petal remained. I watched it with contempt, but my hand reached forward and plucked it from the dying flower gracefully. _

_"I remember not."_

District 11: Ruse Kennedy - 79 hours 

Blood. That was all I saw in that moment. Blood from the body of Mimi from 3. Blood on the body of the career, Ivory, from 1. Blood on the body of the sibling, Rosemary, from 6. It filled my vision, turned my hands and my body red. Endless red.

Everyone was dead. Kelby was dead. Derek was dead. Anya was dead. Kendal was dead. Keira May was dead. I was soon to be dead.

It was like death was following me, a cloaked figure with bony hands and a hidden face. Always a hidden face. He beckoned with those bony fingers, his cloak almost alive with the ghosts of the past trapped inside, screaming and screaming. The one thing that made me scream, though, was the deep, rich colour of his shadowed eyes. Bloody red.

It dripped like water from the tips of my fingers, and fell in pools to the ground at my feet. It smothered them and smothered me, never leaving, just grower stronger, more appearing each day, each second. Red blood that trickled from the gaping mouth of the ghost that followed me.

Her face was white and her eyes were hollow and wide. The worst thing of all was the uttered words that my ears painfully heard loud and clear. _-you don't need to kill me. I'll leave now, just let me leave. _And the thing that scared me the most was the words my mouth was forced to say against its will. _Wrong answer. _

I could've just let her leave. I could've let her go, knowing that she wouldn't come back. She'd owe me, and one day, maybe she'd return the life debt. But I didn't. I remembered her screams so well, I knew them better than my own.

I was at the feast, grabbing a piece of good, old District 11 bread and chewing hungrily. You couldn't exactly fire a scythe and catch prey without being in close range.

Then I saw an envelope. It was nothing special, just a piece of plain, District 7 paper. But the thing that caught me wasn't that my name was written on it. It was the dainty handwriting, pretty and swirly and girly. If there was an "i" in my name, she would've dotted it with a heart.

That nice handwriting could only belong to one person. Not yet ready to be reaped, still safe for just another year. The youngest of my sisters. Little eleven year old Besse always did have the best handwriting out of our large family.

It was a note. A note to me from my family. And without hesitating any longer, I tore open the envolope and started to read.

_Dear Ruse, _It read.

_You're doing well, kiddo. Hang on in there; we all know you can do it. Just because you feel guilty about doing something we all knew you had to do, doesn't mean we love you any less. You'll always be my son, and a brother. That'll never change; remember that._

_From Father. _

And then there was a message from my older brother, Ailo, and older sister, Jenner.

_To Ruse,_

_We suppose you expect us to shout at you. Tell you what you're doing wrong. Tease and taunt you. But we won't, because we're proud of you, little brother. You may not believe it, but the whole family's shed some tears over everything that's happened. And it had better be worth it, you hear us?_

_From Ailo and Jenner. _

And finally, a message from the writer herself.

_Dear Ruse,  
__  
We're all rooting for you back here. Even Anna's mum came round and brought us cookies in "this terrible time". I like cookies. I like Anna's mum. _

_Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that we all care for you, and are just waiting for you to get home and come back to us. I made you a card and everything. Roth says he'll even let you play with his favourite car, and you know how rare that is. Mama has been saving for a cake as well, and Papa's been making you a desk. You know how you've always wanted a desk in your room, and a proper birthday cake._

_Mama says it will only be a few days now. Mama's been saying that for the past three days. __Mama cries a lot now. Papa works most of the time. Jenner and Ailo are away far more than usual. Roth doesn't know what to do. Pell has started to build a treehouse, and does nothing but. And I miss you. _

_Come home, Ruse. Just come home.  
__From Besse. _

As I was reading, I didn't see it. As tears and blood swam in my eyes, I barely acknoledged the quick spike of pain in my neck. But I felt the poison running through my bloodstream. I felt for the dart sticking out from my vein. I just didn't see it coming.

But as I saw more blood, my own this time, pouring onto the tattered arena grass, I blinked. My vision was clearer. The ghost who had haunted me for days on end was dressed in white now, not black. And I held her hand, and walked towards the horizon with her.

There was no blood in heaven.

District 12: Gisli Raylor - 81 hours 

Another cannon fired, and I watched as Lacey carefully placed her delicate pea shooter back into her belt. A tear dropped onto the unlikely weapon, but she brushed the ones forming in her eyes away. Another hovercraft appeared, and Ruse returned to his family...in a wooden box.

I waited until the final moments, and reached for an envolope with _my _name written on the paper. It was block and simple, but I would know it anywhere. My sister's handwriting never changed.

_Dear Gisli, _

_Look at you. Final eleven and still going strong. _I was in the final ten now; it still seemed unreal.

_Eko would've been proud. I'm sure you know that even better than I do, but sometimes people need to hear these things. And you need to hear it from me. I love you, and I'm very proud of you. I could cry endless tears over my two siblings going into the Games in two years, but I won't. Eko would be strong, and you _are _strong. So much stronger than me. _

_I love you, Gisli. But don't leave me alone. Don't leave us alone. You will come back, Gisli. Stay strong, sis. Stay strong for me. _

_From __Jaya_

Oh, Jaya. She always did have a way with words. Then I realised that there was another note at the bottom of the page.

_Dear my beaituful Gisli,_

_I don't know how I missed my little girl growing up. My little Gisli, being the smart and logical one. I'm so proud of you, you have no idea. I know I didn't help with your father's or Eko's death, but I know I can trust you that you'll help yourself. _

_You won't die, girl. I know you won't. I trust you; I know it's a lot to put on your shoulders, but we all want you safe. You know that. Be my strong little girl singing lullabies. For us. _

_From Mother. _

Beside me, Cori was leaning over her own letter. A tear dropped onto my own just as a tear dropped onto hers. And then, in that moment, I realised exactly what we both were.

We were not warriors.

We were not tributes.

We were not fighters.

We were not bad people.

We were just two innocent girls trapped in an arena, missing their families. Two teenagers wanting nothing more than to feel their mother's arms around them. And was that so bad?

But unfortunately, this was the Hunger Games. And my family wanted me home alive, not in a wooden box like countless tributes before me. And so, when I leapt at Cordelia Wren Harlow with my knife raised, I kept an image of my mother and sister in my head.

But she had a family too. And that was why, as my dagger came down, I cried.

District 10: Cordelia "Cori" Wren Harlow- 82 hours

_Dear Cori, _

_You have no idea how proud I am of you. Two Harlows on their way to victory! Hang on in there; I know you can do it! You have that fighter's spirit, and never let it go. _

_You can do this. I know you, I know what it's like to be in an arena. Trust me, once you get it, it will be a piece of cake. We're all eagerly awaiting the picture of you with a crown on your head. My little victor. _

_From Dad. _

I always was his little victor, his little fighter, ever since I was young. I was glad that that had never changed, even though everything around it had, for the good and the bad. And so, I moved onto the next letter thinking, knowing, that there would be some hope in their words to spur me on.

_Dear Cori, _

_If you could feel how much I hate you right now, you'd explode. So, I might not have made it as far as you miraculously have, but I knew it would've been fate, been fair. If I could tell you how much I could've taped up your mouth in that moment, I would. But we have a limit on words, you see. _

_So, good luck, keep fighting, you know the drill by now, I'm sure. Just stay strong Cori. We all need you. I need you. _

_From Lucy. _

Those were the only two letters I read before she leapt at me. I just didn't see the blow coming; one the disadvantagees of tears, I guessed.

It was quick, so I guessed that I was lucky for it. I felt the sharp jab of the blade in my back, and two identical screams echoed in my ears. Mine, and the broken one by my only remaining ally. Lacey hobbled over to me, her whimpers as loud as fog horns, to me at least.

As I fell, a piece of paper fell next to me. My letter.

_Dear Cori, _

_It's not the same without you. I guess I can't really say more than that. _

_I just wanted you to know that these past few days have been the worst of all our lives; and nobody blames you for it. We just want you to come out alive. Please come out alive, or I'll have to call you Cordelia, and I really don't want to do that. _

_Cori, don't leave us. Don't leave us Cori, and don't cry. Don't make me watch you cry. _

I didn't need to see the signiture to know that Jay had sent that last message. And I let him down, both times. I was leaving him; I was leaving father; I was leaving Lucy; I was leaving Lacey. And I was never coming back this time.

An image flashed into my mind. An image of a man and a woman, standing over a hospital bed. And as I watched, music floated into the room.

_Papa don't leave me, Mama don't cry. Papa stay strong for me, Mama don't lie. Papa, don't leave me here, Mama, dry your tears. Papa don't leave me, Mama don't cry. Hold my hand, and watch me die. Don't leave me, don't cry. _

And the man left the room, his head in his hands. His footsteps echoed as they got further and further away. The only sound was the steady hum of the machine and the woman's gentle sobbing. And as the music drifted away, I heard the machine slow to a continous beep. Flatlined.

I didn't see heaven. I didn't see angels coming down. I didn't see a bright light. What I saw was a comfortable darkness, and I welcomed it. I couldn't see my tears in the darkness. And then, I finally left that horrific arena.

District 7: Lacey Kalex - 83 hours

I knelt beside her head, but she didn't see me. I was just a faceless person in the darkness, I supposed. I was just an angel coming to take her away.

_It was the Wolfotaur. It came up to us, snarling, it's teeth bared and claws sharpened. It was ready for a fight. But none of my darts would pierce it's armour, none of Cori's arrows bought it down, none of Mimi's knives did any damage. Nothing we did worked, nothing stopped the creature. _

_Just before we managed to knock down a tree, crushing it, it grabbed hold of my leg. It throbbed painfully, and I knew that there was poison in the bite. _

_The mutt had followed us to the cornucopia, snapping it's jaws and howling on it's hind legs. Luckily, we tricked it into staying at the same spot as, together, we knocked down a weak tree. Bingo. But my leg was still painful, whatever was in Wolfotaur's bite flowing through it. _

I hated Mimi for trying to get that medicine. It got her killed, and never helped me. And now Cori was dead too. Everyone was dead. I didn't see the point in living anymore, but I knew I had to. I knew that I had no choice but to keep fighting. For my brother, for my fallen allies, I would fight.

And that's why, when I saw Gisli reaching for another knife, one much like the one she stabbed into the side of my best friend, I made my decision. I was never one for grudges or revenge; that was saved for careers and bad people. But when I saw the District 12 girl, very almost unarmed, I couldn't help myself.

I ran.

I felt the light dart in my hand, wanting the pleasure of digging it into her skin rather than just blowing it there. That way, it seemed more fragile, more sympathtic. I wasn't looking for sympathy. I was looking for revenge, and the feeling gave me an adrenaline rush.

I dug the dart in, hard, letting her fall to the floor in pain. I could see her writhing, and heard the cries of pain coming through her mouth. And then she was silent. Her eyes crossed and she pointed wordlessly at something in the distance. As she fell, her finger still outstretched, I wondered what she saw. I was thinking what a young girl that I had killed thought whilst she died.

And that thought itself made me collapse onto the snowy ground, just bordering on the winter area of the arena. And finally, the mutt poison started to take effect.

There were bright lights, vibrant and cruel to my squinting eyes. I saw a figure, two figures, approach me, hand in hand. One was a tall man, the other a small woman. They were smiling, and my feet carried me forward. I knew who they were.

They had straight brunette hair and hazel eyes. Their skin was tanned and to the naked eye, they were average. But to me, they were the most special people I had ever seen. They were my parents.

But as I stepped forwards into their embrace, they disappeared. I wrapped my hands around thin air, and whipped around. Their smiles were not nice now; they were twisted and cold, more like sneers. Their eyes were narrowed, their eyebrows knitted together in anger and hatred.

And then I saw the blood dripping from their fingers, and the bright colours vanished, leaving a swirling darkness that swallowed me. And then my parents pushed me into an endless blackhole.

I was writhing and screaming, so sure that there were more monsters coming to get me. The mutt version of Daren. The mutt versions of my possible friends. The mutt version of my housemistress at the orphanage. Mutts everywhere, and still, I knew they were real. How could they not be? Everybody hated me. _I _hated me.

Then there was annother mutt face hovering above me, causing me to scream loudly. My district partner, Somber, looked down at me with a mixture of anger and pity in her eyes. I knew what was going to happen before it did.

"This is for Gisli. And I don't like to see you hurting."

Then nobody hated me anymore. They envyed me for dying, for escaping, maybe, but they didn't hate me. I was just as much as a victim as them.

District 9: Brook Callins - 86 hours 

Everything was a blur that day. I barely remembered anything, just the shocked and scared faces of my fellow tributes, the evil glint of knives on the table and the patter of feet on the arena floor. Little details stuck in my memory as the day where seven died.

Three died at the other table. Mimi, Ivory and Rosemary. Four died here. Ruse, Gisli, Cori and Lacey. They were not warriors. They were not tributes. They were not fighters. They were not bad people. They were just victims.

I had snuck my letter from the table, hidden under my shirt as I ran. Sequin flashed me a smile, and I was scared for a second, but then she was back to wrestling Isabella for a knife. I didn't see who won.

_Dear Brook, _

_Father thinks of you, he really does. He doesn't understand, no, but he knows that you're not here. I can't tell him, Brook. I can't tell him that his last daughter is fighting for her life every second of every day. But I will tell him that you'll be back. And you will, Brook. If I know you at all, you will. _

_I miss you too. There's no one to stand between Griffin and I anymore, so I have a few more bruises than usual. And he's playing up more than usual as well, which makes everything twice as bad. It's his way of saying he wants you home, I guess. _

_Come back._

_From Cal. _

My father was thinking of me? In his condition, I was surprised he knew that there was one less person at the dinner table at all. If he ate, that is.

There was one more, from Kibi.

_Dear B, _

_Left, left, right a bit, that's it! Don't hit like a girl!_

_Do you remember that? Well, I've been wanting to tell you since you got into the arena, and at least now I have a chance. A Peacekeeper is hovering over my shoulder at the moment, so I can't write much. Keeps thinking I'll slip you some feast hidden inside the paper or something, I suppose._

_It's been weird without you. I keep thinking how you'll be there beside me when I whisper aboiut Mrs Barnes' new hairstyle. (It's purple this time - rich so-and-so) _

_What I'm trying to say is, I miss you, B. _

_From K. _

Ahh, Kibi. It must have been hard for her to be emotional. But for me, it was easy. And that was why, as the final cannon sounded and those seven innocent faces appeared in the sky, a tear smudged the ink on my paper.

**And another moment of silence for those four tributes dead in this chapter... Ruse Kennedy, Gisli Raylor, Cordelia Wren Harlow and Lacey Kalex. Four brilliant characters, none of which deserved to be killed. I hope you liked this new chapter!**

**We are left with the final 7. Do you like them? Do you not? Who's your favourite? What more do you want to know? Tell all in a review, please! Thank you! There are only 4 chapters left! In two chapters, the victor will be announced. In two chapters, six more children will be dead. :D**

***~Joy~***


	25. Never Say Never Part3: His eyes said run

**As the home interviews begin... tributes remember a time... when they stood together... who will look back fondly... and whose guilt will be their downfall... who's family will be next to face heartbreak? Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 28th Hunger Games' home interviews. Enjoy the show. **

**Main Characters: Brook Callins, Ashton Samuels, Sequin Allure, Isabella Rose, Somber Thrax, Trista Angel, Mylene Frostblight, Amelia Airhate.**

District 9: Brook Callins - 90 hours

Her cuts were deep, like that of a blunt axe. A cheese and a tin. Our small victory, our small rebellion, as we all held hands in defiance. We, the tributes of the District 9, going down together. But that never happened. Little Tanya died. Kind Tristan died. And I was left behind.

And so, as I curled up on my branch, I felt as though the metal of Tanya's costume was biting into my own skin and my heart. And I deserved it more than her.

District 10: Ashton Samuels - 90 hours

She was an angel, smiling up at me. I didn't want her to die, I remembered. We stood together, watching the training room in envy and pity. She was from District 11, my nature goddess. And we talked and we talked, about things no tribute should say to another.

I knew that, in those simple moments, I decided something. I would die before she would. But that never happened. I didn't protect her, and my revenge did nothing. I didn't want her to die; but Annaliese Braeburn did, in my arms. And she, no one, deserved that fate.

District 1: Sequin Allure - 90 hours

I remembered him, trying to change my mind. Flirting with me and taunting me, pressing over the line. And for some reason, I liked it.

I liked the back and forth, the little game we were playing. The way I batted my eyelashes and he played with his hair. We were on par with each other, cut from the same gem. But he was weak; the bloodbath ruined him, and he died like a weakling from 12.

Perkele Fin at least deserved a career's death.

District 2: Isabella Rose - 90 hours

I remember teasing them as they kissed, making gagging motions behind their backs. They'd leer and sneer at us, and we'd all know it was a fake. They weren't in love, but they were children trying to survive. And that changed people.

But as we sat around a fire, just the six of us, people were smiling. We were laughing. We were teenagers getting on, and dealing with the cards we'd been given. We were... happy. And as I thought of that scene, I remembered the faces in the sky.

Three of those happy children had been killed. Two by their own friends, another by someone she never would have suspected. We, careers or not, deserved better.

District 7: Somber Thrax - 90 hours

I fitted into their group as easily as I would in District 7. But we were not in District seven, and those three girls were not from home. They were strangers, and yet we trained together, smiled together and cried together.

Four girls together until the end, we swore. We swore to look after each other, protect each other, never turn against each other. But now, there was only one of us left. And I wished as hard as I could that it wasn't me.

And yet, the calmest and most hesitant of us all survived. And it wasn't fair; I didn't deserve to.

District 2: Trista Angel - 90 hours

Lily and Isabella. My only thoughts.

My beautiful, dead daughter and my sweet, dying friend. The world was cruel; but I learnt that a long time ago. We would sit and laugh and tease, and it was... nice. I didn't know happiness until I entered the Games, and that was why irony hated me.

We were best friends; were. Now, we were enemies, but neither of us attacked. We danced around in small, pitiful circles, our weapons never once meeting. And neither of us believed that the other one deserved to die.

District 4: Mylene Frostblight - 90 hours

Love and death. Dance and sorrow. Simplicity and pride. Power and weaknesses. Withered cries and shouts of triumph. All these things I have seen. All these things I have known. All these things trapped in one arena.

All these things killed the 29; the 29 dead. The 29 murdered; the 29 escapees.

All these things saved the 7; the 7 alive. The 7 spared; the 7 trapped.

We were just children, every last one of the 36. But I suppose that didn't matter to those who grew up from childhood never worrying about the Games; enjoying them, in fact. We, the District children, never had the luxury.

Every last one of us had never escaped the chopping block. Every last one of us had suffered.

And every last one of us never deserved this fate.

The Capitol: Amelia Airhate - 92 hours

Marylin didn't notice a change. Mother didn't realise the difference. I was the only one who felt the coldness hovering around me and pumping through my blood, the throb of my beating heart as I watched others' stop. Storm carried on acting, playing his leading role in this one change; one thing to make one little difference.

We both played out parts well, until then. We laughed and taunted and mocked the screen, our smiles never leaving our plastic faces. Maybe it was the memories, for Storm. Maybe it was the guilt and realisation, for me. Maybe we had both just had enough.

But as the anthem of Panem played on the screen, I knew. I knew that I could not continue. I knew that I could not live on knowing that families out there were hoping and grieving and trying as they might to move on. And I knew that they never did; I had seen it with my very own eyes.

On screen, people hurried into place and the cameras in the Justice Building of the Capitol began to roll. They focused in on a smiling Caesar, a lime green suit reflecting the lighting, and his orange contacts glistening in the dark room. I had never before realised just how stupid he looked.

"And, action!" A voice called, and the murmurs and movements stopped.

"Welcome, Panem, to the very first home interview of the 28th Hunger Games! We're here with the family of the breath taking Sequin Allure!" He clapped to the group of two people sitting next to him, who smiled and waved to the camera. I looked at one of them strangely, and was pretty sure that they were not from any District.

"This is Sequin's stylist, Claratrix, and her trainer, Phoebe!" Caesar announced, and two very different people were finally focused on by the camera. Claratrix was a rainbow; literately. Her dress was a shimmering variety of colours in bands, and her hair matched her outfit perfectly. Her makeup was precise and professionally put on.

Phoebe, on the other hand, was simply dressed with black trousers and a white button top. Her mouth was a hard line but her natural blue eyes were twinkling.

"Phoebe, what's Sequin been like, growing up? It seems as though you were there for most of it."

"She's always been a fighter, Caesar; it's just who she is. Some people have tried to connect with a softer side of Sequin, but none have succeeded, and I don't think they ever will," her trainer replied heartily, a big smile lighting her face.

"And what about you, Claratrix?" Caesar asked her, obviously content with the gushing replies towards Sequin so far. I had a feeling that he had always liked her, from the very beginning. Nobody could deny that she was... entertaining.

"Sequin is fabulous!" She screeched, exaggerating every word. She clapped her hands with glee and continued. "She is so stylish, fashionable and charming! I've never met someone so... perfect!" She babbled on for a few more moments than necessary, just before Caesar stopped her.

"Phoebe, just before we leave you and go on to our next tribute's family members, I have one question. Do you think Sequin has _it _to win?" The host asked this cautiously, leaning forward in his seat to catch every emotion in the trainer's voice.

"Yes. There has never been any doubt in my mind Caesar, and I doubt that that will change."

XxX

"We're joined now by Trista Angel's family!" The host called joyfully, and the camera focused on a large, rugged group of children.

"And, what are your names?" Caesar asked, looking around at the youth. He pressed the earpiece hidden inside, and whispered a few hurried words into it. He smiled at the family members, and leaned forward slightly.

The oldest boy, sitting in the middle of the kids, smiled ruefully, and replied,

"I'm Jarren. The girls are Tanya, Sarah, Bud and Shanna, and the two trouble makers are Thought and Maxwell. We're the foster kids, from the home, and we're not ashamed of it." I liked Jarren, I decided, as my eyes glanced at the poorly dressed children aged about 17 to 4.

"How well do you think Trista is coping, especially with everything lately?" Caesar asked Jarren again, handing the youngest, Maxwell, a small something that I couldn't see clearly.

"The poison incident scared us all in some way, I think. It was hard seeing her like that again, vulnerable and grieving," he answered quickly, not looking at his foster siblings who were all staring at their bare feet.

"What about you, Thought? How is Trista doing?" Caesar was so good with kids; it felt like a shame to have his talent and personality wasted like this.

"Twista's gowing to win. See's my Twista," the little boy replied, smiling gleefully. He was old enough to understand that she was in a competition; he just didn't know what it involved, exactly. He didn't know that she might die; for nothing.

I kind of hoped that Twista would win, for her foster siblings. For the family I never had.

XxX

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the family of Isabella Rose!" Caesar called delightedly, smiling and clapping his hands eagerly.

"Hello, Caesar," Kendra said icily, narrowing her hard grey eyes slightly at the Capitol man. He just grinned back, undisturbed by Isabella's mother's fierce glare.

"Now, Tamara, how is your relationship with your younger sister? Are you close?"

"You could say that. We're competitive and sometimes things can get a little out of hand, but I love her. The same could be said for a particularly feisty bluebird though, so she shouldn't let it get to her head," Tamara laughed lightly and a few polite chuckles erupted from the background.

"What about you, Kendra? How is your little girl coping?"

"She's not my little girl Caesar, she isn't five. _Isabella _is doing perfectly well, although I'm disappointed on her kill toll so far – hopefully that will improve with time." She sounded like a strict school teacher correcting a pupil.

"Of course, Ms Rose. And you, Carney?"

"My daughter's always been a fighter. I can assure you and the rest of Panem that she _will _fight harder than she ever has before, and win because of it."

XxX

"Now, for the first time on the screens of Panem, let me introduce the Frostblight family!" Caesar announced, and he swivelled his chair around to face a group of three people. They were all almost identical, with the same light brown hair and crystal blue eyes.

"Trent, what's it been like without Mylene?" The host asked carefully, smiling his warming smile as the little boy fidgeted in his seat.

"She's my role model. I don't know what to do when she isn't here, and I already got a question wrong in my homework yesterday because she couldn't help me," Trent replied somberly, ducking his head. Big boys don't cry.

The crowd awwed and some members of the Capitol wiped fake tears from their brightly coloured eyes.

"Korra, are you proud of your little girl? Will she make it as far as your nephew?" Caesar smiled kindly, crossing his hands over his lap.

"Of course I'm proud; she's my Mylene, and I'll always be proud of her. If she'll make it as far as Storm... we'll just have to wait and hope," Korra, Mylene's mother, replied sadly, ducking her head to possibly hide her tears. Her husband wrapped his arms around her, and shushed her sobs.

"Mylene will come home. She's not a career, but she has a fighting spirit. We won't let her let that go," Jordan, her father, told the cameras, and they faded again.

XxX

"Panem, I give you... the family of Somber Thrax!" Caesar declared, turning around to meet the two people sitting, tears streaking their faces and their fingers intertwined.

"Now, Zinith and Jeyy, you've known Somber for as long as you can remember. Do you think she's changed in the arena?" The host asked the two children, who had to be about Somber's age, seventeen. They looked at each other grimly before the boy, Jeyy, answered Caesar.

"Really, she's tried to stay out of the spotlight, I think. I don't know what will happen next, because she's always been unpredictable at the best of times... either way, I hope she doesn't change. I hope." His voice wavered as he said this, and his girlfriend patted his arm comfortingly.

"I want my best friend back. Somber may not be the perfect girl, but to me, I love her even more because of it_. _She's the girl I've known as long as I can remember, and I'm not letting any of those tributes take that away."

Caesar nodded solemnly, and turned to the other, older people on the teenagers' right.

"As her parents, Bevel and Evica, how do you feel? How has Somber being in the Games affected your home life, and your view on the world?"

"Well," Evica started, and stopped. She seemed to ponder her answer before beginning again. "Well, it's made me regret not being there for her as much as I could. I've been working hard, especially over the past couple of years, and... and Somber didn't deserve to have the weight of her siblings on her young shoulders. I should've been there to help my children. I should've been there." Evica shook with hidden sobs, hiding her face slightly.

"We both worked hard to provide for our children. Maybe... maybe we should've worked things out as a proper family instead," Bevel said solemnly, hugging his wife close as she cried gentle tears into his shoulder.

Caesar nodded his head, and smiled dutifully at the cameras once more. He said goodbye to the four family members, and turned towards another two, weeping people.

XxX

"And we are now here with Calden and Griffin, the two brothers of Brook Callins!" Caesar looked at two boys, one quite young, and probably not yet eligible for the Reapings, and another just old enough to be safe from his District's escort.

The older one, Calden, had short black and hair and piercing dark eyes. The one thing that drew my attention was the scar running mainly down the left side of his entire body. His mouth seemed to constantly be a straight, thin line and his eyes were always narrowed in malice of... the world; the Capital? I couldn't tell.

The younger one looked more carefree. He had tousled blonde hair and bright blue eyes that had the sense of mischief about them. He would be the type of person that, at first sight, you would never let near matches.

"Calden, your family was affected by a fire in your younger years. Everyone can see how that scarred your family; what's it like knowing that another family member could be heading for her death?" This was as brash and harsh as I had ever heard Caesar; maybe they had had a falling out backstage.

"What do you expect me to be feeling? I'm not exactly filled with rainbows and sunshine at the moment, knowing that my only sister could be dying right this second!" Calden shouted forcefully, almost getting to his feet before Griffin placed his hand on his brother's shoulder and forced him back down.

"Nothing's been the same with Brook gone. Nobody makes me blueberry pancakes anymore," Griffin said sadly, which seemed to be a cue for his stomach to rumble.

The crowd gave a rushed, light laugh as Calden's expression didn't change.

"We want her back. Our father wants her back. We won't let her be taken from us like Dew, and Mum. Brook Callins _will _come back home."

XxX

"And for our final interview this year, making their debut on Panem television, it's the Samuels family!" Caesar called happily, focusing on a big group of young people squashed together on a bench.

"Let's go to you first, Eva. Is your younger brother doing what you would expect, or has he changed in the Games?"

"Of course he hasn't; he's my little, idiot brother through and through. He's the same person we know and sometimes hate, but he's Ash. He'll always be Ash," Eva, a blonde haired teenager with the same piercing green eyes as the District 10 tribute, replied contentedly.

"And now we go to the twins; Aimee and Sable, how are you coping without your older brother? Is it hard or peaceful?" Caesar asked the brother and sister, who were identical twins. They both had dark brown hair and light, hazel eyes.

"Well, Caesar, us Samuels-" Aimee began, before turning to her brother.

"-always stick together, through everything," Sable finished without visible effort.

"It's been hard without him,-" the girl reassured the crowd, nodding slightly, and blinking away tears.

"- but it's been nice to have a bit of-"

"-peace and quiet."

The siblings finished with smiles on their faces. Ashton obviously wasn't the only joker in their tight-knit family.

"Finally, and before we go off air, what do you three believe, Diana, Griffin and Fauna?" Caesar asked the three remaining children.

"I miss my brother; that's all really," Diana replied first and quickly, crossing her legs and narrowing her darker, hazel eyes.

"My pranks always fail when I'm a one-man team," Griffin said sadly, before they both turned to his younger brother, and the youngest overall sibling. He fiddled with his dark brown hair slightly, and looked down at his scuffed trainers.

"Nobody wants to play hide-and-seek with me anymore. Did I do something bad?" Fauna asked innocently, turning to the rest of his family. Confusion glittered in his deep green eyes, and I realised that he was a younger version of Ashton himself.

Eva wrapped her arms around her brother, who had to be at least eight years younger than her, and said,

"You did nothing, Fauna. Ash is coming home very soon, and then he'll play hide-and-seek with you. I promise."

XxX

The home interviews were over, just like that. There were only seven this year, as a tribute was killed before they could process and collect their family.

I turned to Storm, and I felt tears prick slightly in my eyes. All I could see were images of Fauna, desperately wondering why nobody would play a game with him anymore. And why his older brother,his older friend, was gone.

"It. Isn't. Fair," I whispered gently, and my cruel best friend and my botoxed freak of a mother turned to me. I never realised just what we were like; the Capital. We were as bad as any dumb, terrifying mutt.

Storm looked my way, and I expected him to shake his head, give some indication for me to stop. He knew it would get us in big trouble. more than we were probably already in, but he said nothing. Only his rich eyes betrayed his thoughts.

His eyes said _Run. _

**I'm so sorry that my updates have been delayed, but I've been cutting down on my laptop time and my writer's block felt like I had concussion. **

**With a bit of luck you loved this chapter, and remember, only a few more are left! Sorry for the lack of death and destruction, but hopefully there was enough drama for you too! **

**Please, please, please review and tell me what you thought. Thank you!**

***~Joy~***

**P.S Are you wondering why there's a lack of Amelia and Storm's story? If you want to know why, just leave a request in your review and I'll explain via PM. Somehow, I don't want this author's note to be any longer than it already is!**


	26. Victorious Part 1: Enemies' eyes

**Only seven remain... only six left to die... what fates and feelings will be discovered... who will tremble in the eyes of their murderer... and who will drown in their own tears? Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the beginning of the end of the 28****th**** Hunger Games. Enjoy the show. **

**The Final Main Characters: Ashton Samuels, Somber Thrax, Mylene Frostblight. **

**All rights go to Coldplay for the song lyrics (which are out of order on purpose and specifically chosen, by the way :))**

District 10: Ashton Samuels - 94 hours 

The final seven; I was in the final seven. I knew it wouldn't last, of course, but it was a start; a very big start. I, Ash Samuels, had the chance of surviving. And it made me sick.

I didn't want the other tributes to just die brutal and early deaths. I didn't want to win because I was bloodthirsty, or because I was cruel. I wanted to win because I wanted to see my family. And that was the only thing spurring me on.

"Hey Ashton," a voice said from behind me, and I shot up. It was Isabella; the girl from District 2 who I suspected was a little bit crazy for volunteering so young.

"Hi, Bella," I replied shakily, hastily checking that my bow was still in my hand. Her hard, steel eyes narrowed slightly, but she kept walking. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" I asked her, gesturing to the summer trees and bright blue sky.

"Yeah, I guess it is. Beautiful." She took a step towards me, hesitant and deceiving. I didn't believe for a second that she was innocent, but I didn't think she was a cold blooded killer either. We had both killed a tribute for revenge, out of anger; we were even, in my eyes.

"How are you doing? Keeping... active?" I tried to see if humour would help, but she just kept advancing, the simple knife in her hand very intimidating.

"Oh yeah. I've been running laps, keeping up with climbing, amidst other things." Other things? Oh, sugar honey ice tea.

"Good, good." That was when I closed my eyes. She was right in front of me now, and I could feel her breath on my cheek. It was warm, but I could smell the sickly stench of blood. I tried not to think why there would be blood on her breath, or if it was just my active imagination.

"I don't want to kill you, Ash. I really don't, but I don't see a choice. I have a family. I have a home. I have a reputation. And I'd prefer if I kept those things, you understand?" There was a hint of something in Isabella's eyes, something not quite right. Off.

"I understand," I squeaked, instantly regretting it. It showed my fear, I reckoned. And animals could smell fear.

"Do you? Because I don't think you do. You don't know what it's like to have the weight of your sister's perfection on your shoulders, your cousin's pitiful loss in a previous Hunger Games, and your parent's harsh training techniques. Do you understand?"

I didn't know how to respond, so I stayed silent. It was a pleasant change for me, I decided. I watched as her possibly even more insane ally, Trista, approached from beside her.

"I don't think I'll kill you now, Ashton. I assure you, Trista will be kinder," Isabella told me regretfully, a small, sad smile on her face. One tear, one droplet of water only crawled slowly down her pale cheek, and over her delicate chin. It made me realise how young she was; how much she hated doing this. Some careers were like us after all.

"I'm sorry," the older girl said, bending down and taking my bow from my fingers. She took the arrows from my back and passed them to the other tribute.

"I'm so, so sorry." And with that, a sharp point of a deadly blade broke into and through my skin. I felt it rip and tear at my black jacket and black top, and in slow motion I felt pressure on my bare flesh. I winced, and closed my eyes. I didn't want her to see my unmistakable tears of pain.

I felt the knife draw blood, felt it dig deeper and deeper. It was slow, painful, but that must have just been me. In real time, it was probably over in seconds.

I felt a vein pop, felt the blood drip down my shirt once more. The blade pierced an artery, and I gasped. Even more blood poured out like a small, fatal fountain.

I felt my heart pump desperately, trying to hold the red liquid in. I shook with the effort, and trembled to my knees. Trista's hand didn't hold the knife any longer, and instead it supported itself. My heart gave one final beat, like a last goodbye, and I felt it falter.

Random lines from an old Panem song came into my head. It was a sad song, I thought, and I could never remember where I heard it. But I had known it my whole life; it only seemed ironic that it would come to me when my life was ending.

_Shattered windows and the sound of drums, people couldn't believe what I'd become. _

_I used to roll the dice, feel the fear in my enemies' eyes. _

_One minute I held the key, next the walls were closed on me. I discovered that my castles stand upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand. _

_Never an honest word and that was when I ruled the world. _

The final six; I was never going to be in the final six. And then, under the artificial arena sky, I died a coward. I died an arrogant king who ended up with nothing; nothing at all.

_Just a puppet on a lonely string; oh, who would ever want to be king?_

District 7: Somber Thrax – 95 hours

It was cold, so very cold. But I was too afraid to move from my hidden spot, with snow over the entrance to my cave and a dark, shadowy patch near the back.

I was too cold to face up to my fears and accept that I couldn't stay here forever.

I stomped my feet and blew into my hands, tucking my dark jacket around me tightly. I kept my eyes trained straight ahead for a movement in the thick snow. I listened out and strained my ears to hear if someone, or something, was coming.

"Somber, I'm sorry." There was a person behind me; a person I had never known was there. Three sharp spikes dug into my frozen, stiff back.

"There's a tunnel connecting the caves at the winter and spring areas. Sequin's sniffing around out there, so I ran and found it. She would catch you by surprise, Somber, and murder you with a vicious temper that killed Michael and Floyd."

I looked up at Mylene, fear in my eyes. I knew she was right; if Sequin was coming, I was dead, cut up and sliced meat.

I fell to the floor and felt the ice chill me to my fragile bones, the snow sticking to my hair and falling down my neck. She looked down at me, pity in her crystal blue eyes. They were similar to the ice, but not as hard and not as cold. It was a nice blue, a calm sea blue.

"Are you going to win?" I asked her, tears clogging my throat and making my voice thick and wavering. I closed my eyes tightly as the pain levels increased.

"I'll try, Somber. I'll try and win for both of us, okay?" Mylene told me sadly, and she knelt down by my head. She stroked dark strands of hair away from my face and placed her hand on my cold, pale cheek. I could feel her gentle breath on my shivering face.

"Okay," I replied weakly, and an image of a boy and a girl came into my head. There was a kiss; a wedding; a house; a baby; a graduation. There were tears; a walking stick; a funeral; a smile. The life I could never have with the boy who would never know. The images changed, and there was a different girl, a prettier girl. And she lived that fairytale life.

She wore a beautiful wedding dress, and walked down the aisle. People clapped and cheered as he ducked her, and pressed his lips to hers, sealing their fate. On their hands were two bands of gold, linking them together forever.

They stood outside a pretty house, small and quiet, peaceful and calm. They walked hand in hand and he opened the door wide. Inside there was furniture already there, and tears formed in her eyes as she watched her house become her home.

She sat outside the house, rocking a radiant, blonde haired baby. It laughed with her, and he came out. He took her hand and they watched the child in fascination. It was beautiful, with his calm face and her beautiful bright, blue eyes.

The same blonde haired child threw a black cap into the air, and as the graduate walked away, her parents waved and cried, tears dripping on the dirt track. She shed her black robes, revealing a prom dress and a smile of 100 watts.

The couple walked down the road and were greeted by those that they knew. Both had a wooden walking stick, their grey hair was limp but their eyes were not lifeless. They were happy as they wondered into shops, taking in the little pleasures of life.

The woman, the blonde girl, sat at the front row of a funeral and cried waterfalls. She wore a black dress and a black hat covered her weeping face. A coffin sat in front of her, taunting the congregation and full of seemingly unending grief.

Then the old girl was in a bed, a faint smile on her cracked, thin lips. Her skin was sallow and wrinkled and her eyes were closed. The bed was white and beside her, a machine bleeped, continuous and loud, a line on the screen. But the woman was still smiling. She was joining her husband.

I shook with cold, and wrapped my frail arms around myself. A warm tear fell onto my cheek from above, and I saw the haunted face of my killer hovering over me. She pressed her warm lips to my forehead in a gesture of peace, and held my icy hand tightly.

As I drifted away and saw the piercing vision of Mylene's calm blue eyes, I thought of something; something important, and risky, and stupid. But my lips moved for a second and were still. I could tell that they were ice blue, a harsher blue than that of the girl's eyes.

"Tell Jeyy I love him."

District 4: Mylene Frostblight – 96 hours

I hadn't wanted to kill her. Somber Thrax was just another person standing in my way, and however much I hated it, it was me or her. And that was why I wanted the Capitol to fall, and fall hard. They would pay for the girl's death, for Casey's death, for all the past tributes' deaths, and hell, even for Ivory's death.

In the midst of it all, none of us had ever deserved to die.

"_Do it, Storm! Do it!" I had cried, watching my cousin as he jumped down from the platform gracefully and into the calm sea. I giggled and clapped my hands with glee. My feet dangled in the water, and my hair was soaked wet from the splashes my cousin had caused. _

_He appeared from the ocean, shaking his hair away from his face and gasping for breath. He smiled broadly at me, and swam over to the shore where I sat. _

"_Did you see me? Did you see me?" He asked excitedly, in the way that only an eight year old can. _

"_Can you show me, Storm? I want to learn how to dive like you!" I was seven at the time, and as eager to get into the water as a girl from District 11 was eager to climb a waiting tree. I climbed up the rocks after him, carefully placing my hardened feet on the rough surface. I almost tripped countless times, but I kept on going. _

"_Place your hands in front of you like this. " He showed me the motion, and then continued. "Tuck your ears in between your arms, and duck your head down." _

_And very carefully, I flung myself off of the cliff edge. It felt brilliant for a while; I was souring through the air, feeling the breeze play with and tangle my hair and touch my cheeks. Then I saw the water getting closer and closer, the sea suddenly looking a lot more intimidating and rough. _

" _Mylene!" I heard someone call, but I couldn't do anything. My arms flailed around me, and I let out a terrified scream as a felt my head touch the ice cold water. With a crash, I began to drown. _

_XxX_

"_Mylene!" A voice said again, but this time, it was a lot closer. Someone's light breath tickled my ear and I let out a surprising giggle. I blinked, and coughed. Salt water spurted from my mouth and all over the shoes of the boy beside me. _

"_Sorry," I groaned, my voice raspy and deep. I rolled over, and retched more of the sea water onto the sand. _

"_Yuk," the same voice murmured, taking a hesitant step backwards. I looked up to find my friend, Regal, from school making a weird face down at me. A blush formed on my cheeks and spread down to the base of my neck. Regal grinned. _

"_Storm, how could you let this happen? You were supposed to be responsible and be watching your cousin! She could've died, Storm!" A woman's voice scolded and I turned to see my elder family member looking down at his bare feet, his mother hovering over him. _

"_It wasn't Storm's fault," I whispered, almost inaudibly. "I asked him to show me how to dive." _

"_Mylene; dive? Storm, what were you thinking? She hasn't learnt her five times table yet," my best friend, Regal, commented, a smirk on his plump, boyish face. _

"_I have! 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30-"_

"_That's enough, Mylene. We need to get you inside," my mother said sternly, taking me in her arms and carrying me to our coastal home like I weighed nothing. I hadn't realised she was there, but then again, she was probably the one to pull me from the ocean in the first place. _

"_I'm sorry, Lenny," my cousin mumbled, using the nickname I despised to break the tension, probably. He smiled a brilliant, white smile down at me and I couldn't help but smile sleepily back. As I felt my mother life me over to the couch and rest my head down on the pillows, I said something incoherent back. _

"_Don't ever leave me," I murmured, but nobody heard my tired words. _

"Sleeping on the job, Mylene? Really, I might just have to fire you, hon." I turned abruptly to see the form of well-known career Sequin Allure watching me with a murderous glint in her violet eyes. I blinked back, but not in shock. I had seen her coming a mile away.

"Why, Sequin, I thought we were getting a bit under-staffed at the moment. You won't want to lose a very hard worker like me," I replied icily, going along with her sick little game. She smiled, but it was more like a shark's grin that a friendly, comforting action.

"I wouldn't? Why ever not, sweetpea?" She asked, prowling forwards slightly, tilting her head at an angle to watch me. I had always known that she was psychotic, from the very start. Like the way she twisted Floyd around her little finger and then murdered him. Or the way she carved _Loser _into her victims' heads.

"Oh, I just thought you might like a bit of drama in the office. With only a few of us left, economic cuts are sure to be soon. Shouldn't we start saving?" I was moving backwards slowly, reaching for the spear hanging down from my belt, taken from the feast. Maybe if I could get it without her watching, I had a chance.

"It's no skin off my nose, sugar." She flashed me another smile, and noticed the hand moving towards my spear. "Oh, Mylene, Mylene. I hope you're not trying to cheat me, are you?" She said mock-sadly in her District 1 drawl. "I'm going to have to fix that. Do you know what I do to employees who just... don't... make... the... chop?" She said the last few words very slowly, taking a step for every syllable until she was almost on top of me. I realised then that she was slightly taller than me, and gulped.

"Surely, you're one for second chances, Sequin," I said, my voice wavering a lot more than I had hoped.

"I would be, but I'm not in a very forgiving mood today, pumpkin," my enemy said, taking just one small step towards me. She grinned again, and I saw that her teeth were slightly stained... stained blood red. My eyes widened in that last moment, and I tried not to tremble. Her unnatural eyes drank me in, before making one final threat to send a shiver down my spine.

"Bye bye, sweet cheeks. It's been fun, but you can never have too much of a good thing." Her knife came down, just a simple knife, and cut my spear in half. I gasped, ready for pain that didn't come. I breathed out a sigh of relief, and then the pain came.

She stabbed the knife just to the left of my heart, not exactly piercing it, but that didn't mean it sent a burning pain through my body. She moved in a vague circle, cutting and slicing as I screamed. The knife was in deep, too deep for it not to be fatal.

"I always knew you had a heart of stone," Sequin murmured sinisterly, an inhuman twinkle of insanity in her hard eyes as she looked down at me.

"Says the Ice Princess," I muttered back, feeling everything slowly slipping away. It was similar to drowning, almost, but it hurt more. The darkness was the same, the feeling of leaving everything behind was the same. But I didn't have Regal or Storm's strong arms to lift me, and the air around me was tinted red.

The last thing I felt was a sharp object digging into my forehead, making me cry tears of blood. _Loser. _

**Well, there are only a few chapters left to go. I was going to announce the victor in this chapter, but I got to 3000 words half way through the 3****rd**** PoV and decided against it :P You would have a 7000 word chapter on your hands. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope it was worth the wait! As you might've seen on my profile, I am leaving pretty soon. I promise to finish all of my ongoing multi chapters, so don't worry. ****I'm not going anywhere yet!**

**Congratulations to our final four... Sequin Allure, Trista Angel, Isabella Rose and Brook Callins! When you think about it, they would be mostly careers anyway. And consolidations to the dead in this chapter... Ashton Samuels, Somber Thrax and Mylene Frostblight. So close and yet so far. **

***~Joy~***


	27. Victorious Part 2: Down with the Capitol

**Three unfortunates still to die... who will conquer and remain victorious..****. three hours of desperate fights... what will their final moments be like... how will the final moves of the Game be played... before Checkmate? Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the end of the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show. **

**Main Characters: Sequin Allure, Brook Callins, Isabella Rose and Trista Angel. **

District 1: Sequin Allure – 97 hours

I hope you're happy, mother. I hope you're proud, father. I hope that when I get home I can move out before I even have to look at you. I hope you forgive me, mother. I hope you look past this, father. I hope that our paths will never have to cross again.

I could, in my mind's eye, see the word loser carved into the three foreheads of my victims. I could see the scream on the lips of Michael; the blood red patterns on the skin of Floyd; the open, beating heart on the chest of Mylene.

I didn't used to be like this. I like the way I am now; I am a proper career. But I didn't used to be this way.

"_Sequin?" A small voice asked, tiny and weak, so innocent and soft. It made my small, ten year old heart swell, and I smiled down at the boy at my feet. His curly, blonde hair was ruffled and untidy; a look my mother would've have killed him for if this was a different situation. I lifted my chin and looked down into the warm, violet eyes of my little brother. _

"_You'll be fine. I'll be waiting for you when you come back." My face, however plump and young it was, was set into a calm, collected, beautiful mask. People had often told me that I was a porcelain doll; cold, emotionless, and the type of perfection that only skilled hands could make, never be natural. _

_My mother, nonetheless, told me to step up my training, and shoved me through the doors of the auditorium, or the TCYB – Training Centre Youth Borough. And now, she was shouting at the little boy strapped to a wooden post, his back bare and shivering in the cold. _

"_Why would you do that? You're a stupid boy, I tell you, stupid! First, you're a disappointment in training, and now stealing... you're no son of mine. You hear?" My mother could be harsh at times, and so I ran to defend my baby sibling. _

"_Mother, he hasn't failed in training! He's doing really well with a knife, and nobody's even proved that the broken roof is his fault! And there's no evidence that he stole those buns, Mother!" I cried, watching as the Peacekeepers marched into the square, their whips dangling over their shoulders casually. _

"_You know what happens when you break the rules, disobey the Capitol. You knew the risks, and you will accept the punishment." I cried; reaching out my arms as the first whip landed with a deafening crack onto my brother's back. Blood trickled oh so slowly down his pale skin, a red tear running from the wound. _

_They struck again. _

_And again. _

_Until, finally, his screams stopped. I ran towards him, even though the whip lashed out again. I tried to block him, shield him with my arms, but the Peacekeepers threw my small body away like I was feather-light, but not before one weapon scrapped down my smooth cheek. I ignored the pain, and I tried to whisper to my brother that he was strong; he wasn't showing them it hurt anymore. _

_I didn't realise that he wasn't screaming because he was strong, or brave. It was because dead bodies didn't scream. _

I used to care more than this; not less.

"Sequin," a cool voice stated from behind me. A small girl with plain, black hair stood opposite me, watching the last remains of Mylene's body being taken away by the hovercraft. She sat down, crossed legged, beside me on the ice. I couldn't think of her name.

"Brook," she said, reading my thoughts, and holding out her hand towards me. I instantly recoiled from her bitten and chewed nails. "You shake it," she said, rolling her blue eyes at my ignorance. I huffed, and shook it anyway.

"No shit, Sherlock. I already knew that," I told her icily, crossing my arms over my torso to protect myself from the cold. I was contemplating on how to kill the girl, Brook. I would have to carve my signature into her forehead, of course, but I'd already stabbed someone, torn out their heart, let another bleed to death. I would have to be creative with the killing of this girl.

She was watching me intently, looking into my eyes, but not the way I would've expected. There was not an icy fear or cold hatred running through her veins, and she didn't attack me straight away. I wondered what her strategy was.

"I figured I wouldn't stand a chance, or much of one, against the two careers. They're still an alliance, you know," Brook said, inspecting the walls of the cave. I remembered my two ex-allies, Isobel and Terry, or something like that.

"I know," I said, acting as though this was obvious. I actually hadn't seen them since... since the feast, I supposed. Maybe even before.

"What are you saying? That you want to join up with me, against them?" I asked, finally thinking her proposition through. I could take Izzy and Teresa easily, even though I hadn't properly seen them fight, and Brook was just a weak, little girl.

"I was saying that it was an option." She shrugged offhandedly, brushing the snow off of her black, tight dress. "What do you say?" She didn't even turn to me to hear my answer, and that infuriated me. I was used to being the centre of attention.

"I say, you're going to hell, bitch," I growled, pouncing on top of the girl with a force I had been saving over the past few days. I was still keeping to my strict diet, which was actually quite easy considering we were trapped in an arena. My hands shook slightly as they curled around her neck, which was either from the red meat or the cold. I couldn't be sure anymore.

It was quick; scarily quick. She took the sword from my hand as though... as though it was _natural._ She looked at me with an air of triumph, and the weapon came crashing down. I felt one second of burning; flashing pain, and then it was gone.

I started to have one of those out-of-body experiences, and I hovered in the air like a ghost. I looked down on my body as my head rolled on the ice, like a football caught on a frozen lake. Brook, the girl whose name I didn't even remember, bent down slightly to touch my silvery blonde hair. Then she took the dagger from her pocket, and carved five letters into my forehead.

_Loser. _

District 9: Brook Callins – 98 hours

It was me against two of the most dangerous careers ever in the Games, but I had just killed the top contender. I knew that I shouldn't let my pride get ahead of me, but I had just got rid of Sequin Allure. I hated killing, but I saw what she did to the other tributes, possibly my friends. She skewered them.

I couldn't resist doing what she had done to the innocent tributes before her, humiliating them in front of the whole of Panem. She had to know what she really was; a loser at heart.

But now I faced one of the strongest alliances ever to appear in the Hunger Games. Isabella Rose and Trista Angel were after my blood.

"Brook," a soft voice said from behind me, and I almost jumped out of my skin. But what I saw was not at all what I expected; I expected to see a knife at my throat, not three pairs of kind, smiling eyes looking down on me. They were people I barely knew, but recognised so well.

"Brook, my name's Casey. This is Eko," she pointed to a dark haired boy on her left, "and Nicole," she motioned to the small girl on her right. The three figures wavered slightly, like they were holograms. Maybe they were.

"I know who you are," I said icily; maybe Sequin was rubbing off on me. But the blonde one, Casey, just smiled down at me ruefully. I stared at them again, trying to see if they were just Gamemaker traps, ready to lead me to my brutal and early grave.

"We've been watching you, and everyone," the small one spoke for the first time, her eyes glassy and glazed over. I realised how pale all of their skin was, and how their eyes lacked any sign of... life, of sparkle. There was nothing to indicate that they were real, apart from the fact that they were standing right in front of me and talking.

I realised that it seemed like it was almost an effort for Nicole to talk, and she was shaking. Her mouth looked like it wanted to scream, but she kept it shut. Eko didn't even attempt to talk to me, and just stood silently, like a bodyguard.

"Watching? Watching the Games?" I asked, looking at the three of them with eyes wide. They wouldn't be watching the whole show if they were just tricks, would they?

"We were brought here because our sibling, or somebody we were connected to, was brought into the Games. Gisli, Mylene and Rosemary, in other words, are, were, the reason we're here," Casey said, motioning to the other two in explanation.

"We need your help." I turned at the deep voice, but Eko gave no indication that he had spoken.

"Help? How? How are you still here?" I asked, panicking. This had to be a trick, some way to get me to... to rebel against the Capitol. And trick me into being punished for treason. I scrambled away, and pressed my back against the solid, ice wall.

"We're fighting our programming," Nicole said, and I realised that that was why they had trouble speaking.

"But why can Casey speak better than you, and why can you speak better than Eko?"

"It's to do with our deaths. Eko died first, so it was harder for him to come back, and the same with Nicole. I was third in the Games, remember," Casey clarified. I remember that, when Nicole was eaten up by the lava. And when Storm killed Eko and Casey took the arrow intended for our current victor. And when Selena killed herself; nobody could forget that.

It seemed that Eko and Casey should've been at each other's throats; Casey's boyfriend killed Eko, and Eko's girlfriend killed Casey.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Everything's changing," Nicole whispered, looking into my eyes. I realised how alike her and her dead sister were, and the same with Eko. Casey looked familiar too... but I didn't know how. She didn't have any family members in these Games.

"Nicole's right. Something's going to happen, and happen soon. Somehow, it will mean the end of the Capitol. It will result in freedom for the districts. We don't know how, but we can feel it. This is why we fought our programming, and why we came to warn you. You're part of this, Brook Callins." Her words were so sincere, so full of power; I could sense the atmosphere almost throbbing with it.

"We need to go," Eko muttered quietly, his lips barely moving. And with that, he just disappeared into thin air. Nicole gave me a small smile, full of unexplained hope, and did the same. Casey reached her ghostly pale hand out, and she brushed my cheek. It was like electricity coursing through my veins when she touched me, and her skin was so cold. The ice seemed like a fire compared to it.

"Go to the summer area. The final battle is about to begin, but whatever the cost Brook, remember. Always remember." And then she followed the others, vanishing into the light like wispy smoke.

"Remember what?" I asked the empty space around me, but as I thought, I got no answer from the ghost gang. The thought should have scared me, or at least make me believe I had finally dissolved into insanity, but instead a felt an overwhelming sense of calm.

"Isabella and Trista, here I come."

I would go down fighting; whatever it cost me.

District 2: Isabella Rose – 99 hours

We sat in silence.

We waited in the summer area, near the cornucopia, for something to happen – nothing did. The cameras had been on us for the past two hours, I could tell. I had that unnerving feeling at the back of my mind, telling me that we were being watched. It was an instinct I had relied on far too much in my childhood years – if you could still call them that. I didn't have a proper childhood, and if I had, it wouldn't have ended yet. I was only thirteen; people didn't grow up at thirteen.

"Isabella, we have to move," Trista said again, looking out at the arena for any attack. It had been too long; the silence had drifted on for too long. There had been a cannon just over an hour ago, but we still didn't know who it was. Knowing the odds, the table could've turned quite easily. Brook could still be alive, and the remains of Sequin's body could've been lifted up into that hovercraft. It was unlikely, though.

"Trish, trust me. Whatever is going to happen, it'll happen wherever we are. We might as well be in the warm sunlight that in a dingy, freezing cave somewhere," I retorted, exasperated.

"Lily would agree," Trista said dreamily, and I smiled ruefully at my ally. Lily didn't come up in conversation as much anymore, but when she did, we always tried to act like nothing had happened afterwards. In her mind, maybe nothing did.

"Tick, tock," I mumbled, watching the area again. The cornucopia sat proudly in the middle of the arena and blocked my line of sight. I cursed mentally and decided that we would be able to see Brook or Sequin coming a mile off, anyway.

"Do you ever get the feeling that there's a steel knife in your windpipe? You can't breathe, but you keep trying. You know it's pointless, and yet you carry on." And do you know what the sickest thing was? I knew exactly what Trista meant.

"_Congratulations. You have made it to the final three. The final lap, if you will. You have one hour before we announce the victor – not more, not less. If not, then the victor will be chosen from a Reaping ball. The more sponsors you have, the more slips you have in the ball. The remaining member or members left in the arena will be slaughtered... viciously. May the odds be ever in your favour!" _

"That's the second time I've wanted to kick Claudius Templesmith where the sun don't shine," I muttered to myself, my hard eyes naturally narrowed.

Trista giggled, the light returning to her icy blue eyes and colour rising in her cheeks once more. She looked more alive than ever when she laughed, and when she smiled. That was the person I knew.

At that thought, I looked down at the small crown pinned onto the black fabric of my short dress. It sparkled in the summer sunlight, silently taunting me and teasing me. I glared down at it, a red haze coming over my vision as I did so. I threw it across the arena, putting all my strength into that one movement. Trista would have to die for that crown.

"Izzy? What are you doing?" Trista asked, her eyes wide. I knew that she didn't like seeing bad emotions; it made her think of Lily. Somehow, that made me even more livid.

I took the knife from my belt and hacked at one of the trees. I gave up soon afterwards, realising that my little weapon did next to no damage to the bark.

And so I punched it. Again, and again, keeping a steady rhythm as I pumped my fist into the tree. Blood streamed down in small, fatal fountains from my knuckles, but I ignored the burning pain. I hit harder, faster, picking up the speed as more murderous thoughts came crashing into my head.

"Isabella, stop!" Trista yelled at me, but I blocked out her screams. All I could concentrate on was the thought of President Snow's face in front of my fist, on the centre of a target. It calmed me, and yet drove me onwards.

Eventually, I did stop. I collapsed from exhaustion, and burst into tears. I, Isabella Rose, career, fighter, survivor, started to cry. I then realised what I had done, and I scrambled onto my shaking feet. I tore through the centre of the arena, desperately searching for whatever remained of my little badge, the last thing connecting me to home.

I knew I looked desperate, but I needed that token. I wanted that little memory to keep me safe, to let me go home. Tamara gave it to me, and I had to give it back. I couldn't just leave it here.

I didn't know how long I had searched for, but it was too late to take time back.

100 hours into the Games, there were still three tributes left in the arena. 100 hours into the Games, 33 victims had been murdered, and 100 hours into the Games, a victor had to be announced. It was too late to realise that three of our times were up. But our days had been numbered for a long time now.

I didn't mean to do it. I couldn't stop my hand from moving to my belt from where I knelt on the grassy ground just opposite the cornucopia. I was just what I had suspected all along; I was just a puppet, and the puppet master had taken control of my strings once more.

Trista hovered over me, smoothing my hair and whispering kind thoughts. It made me sob even more.

I cried harder when I saw the knife slash her wrist, making it look like I was the one hurting her. But it wasn't me; I swear I never wanted her to die like that. I wanted _me _to die fighting, not give up like the weak little girl everyone had suspected me to be.

The blade cut across her left wrist now, and the blood flowed even more freely than my knuckles had when I took my anger out on that tree. And then Trista was standing up, heading to the lake I had taken water from just hours before. Just hours, minutes, seconds; that was all it really took.

She was walking, and then she was kneeling near the edge of the water. I took a deep breath, knowing what she was going to do. They were going to force her to her death; it was like they were pushing her into the icy depths themselves.

I tried to hold her back, I really did. I tugged, and screamed, and cried. But none of my efforts ever changed anything.

I, Isabella Rose, career, fighter, survivor, was going to watch my friend drown. And slowly, she was tipped over the edge.

And in slow-motion, she fell, and she drowned, and she died. And that was how the cocky, proud, courageous thirteen year old saw her best friend meet her gruesome end in the 28th Hunger Games. And that was the first and last time Isabella Rose ever cried.

XxX

I saw her fall, and I choked back tears. My best friend, Trista, was dead. Murdered by fate and destiny, the deadly team of trained killers.

I saw a figure drifting towards me as cannon sounded and the hovercraft lifted her tall, lithe body from the water. I blocked the screams rising in my throat, and concentrated on my opponent. Tamara, and Tory, and Trista were the people I had to fight for. Their love was worth dying for, but that would be beside the point.

"Isabella," Brook stated, and I could imagine her saying the same to Sequin. Brook would be coming to sit next to her, engaging her in a conversation, and then turning on her.

"Brook," I replied, watching her movements. She sat down near the cornucopia, resting her back on the gold metal. She kept looking at me, but my eyes were foggy and I saw through her, past her, to the little lake where the claw of the hovercraft was emerging from the surface. I bit my lip and felt the tears swell in my eyes as they had done so many times before now. I was not going to cry.

"We don't have to kill each other, you know," Brook told me regretfully, bowing her head and scuffing her shoes in the earth. I looked around, and noticed something I hadn't before. The ground had gone from a healthy green to a dying, limp yellow. How strange.

"No. Instead, they made me kill my best friend, my sister. But that's okay, because now only one of us will have to die horribly, and the other one won't have any guilt at all on their shoulders. Right?" I hissed, and I saw the girl flinch.

"I mean, we don't have to have more blood directly on our hands," Brook huffed, subconsciously rubbing the nail polish only just staying on her finger-nails.

"You just keep believing that, Callins," I told her, crossing my arms over my chest and watching the arena again. Before my eyes, I saw something incomprehensible, and never done, to my knowledge, in the Hunger Games before.

Around us, the 28th arena began to die.

The trees and plants withered, the lakes dried up, and various animals hopping around fell dead on the floor. The grass I was sitting on became hard and cry, and even the cornucopia itself started to rust. I looked at Brook, and she stared back.

One of us was about to die.

A rope appeared, hanging on the inside of the cornucopia, and I gulped. It was swinging ominously, like a metronome counting the time. I could see the numbers in my head, a digital clock counting down. Three, two, one...

And Brook began to walk. Her eyes were full of pain, but her body showed no internal struggle. She had her head held high, and on instinct, I followed her. Was she being lead to her own death, or leading me to mine? I couldn't tell, but either way, I knew that neither of us would want to die alone.

She took the rope between her calloused fingers and strung it around her neck. I kept walking towards her as she tightened the rope around her throat; dangerously so.

When I reached her, I realised she was standing on a small, dying tree stump that had just appeared out of nowhere. I stood next to it, and held her hand in mine. Her head turned towards me, with effort, and her eyes showed all the pain and suffering that her body just couldn't anymore.

"Down with the Capitol."

And a cannon fired.

**Nobody has any idea how hard this decision was for me. I rewrote this chapter over ten times, completely undecided on a victor, which is why it's so slow to come out! I'm so sorry, but I just finished writing it now. The sponsor points are imaginary, by the way, and I wanted to have a different ending. **

**So, we have our victor! A big congratulations to Isabella Rose, the youngest victor to ever volunteer in the Hunger Games! (To my knowledge, at least) And, of course, well done to our deceased final four. Sequin Allure, humiliated and defeated; Trista Angel, murdered by her best friend's hand; and Brook Callins, a victim of the Capitol, who (supposedly) committed suicide. I loved all of them, which is why their ends were the most sad and dramatic, and why it was so hard for me to kill them. **

**In the words of our runner up; down with the Capitol!**

**So, the last chapter will be posted AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. Don't kill me if it's not posted for a while, but I'll really try. And, of course, of new story Fly Only To Fall, the continuation of Storm, Amelia, Marylin, the botoxed mother and now Isabella's tale, will be up soon! Yay!**

**PLEASE REVIEW FOR THE FINAL CHAPTER EVER IN THE 28****TH**** HUNGER GAMES ARENA! THANK YOU! **

***~Joy~***

**P.S The 25****th**** Hunger Games is now up for sale! Please visit Chapter 5 of that story if you're interested in continuing it for me. Thank you, and good luck! **


	28. Victorious Part 3: Final moments

**She paid the ultimate price... she lived through Hell and back... but now, she emerged victorious. What will the Capitol think... as they see their victor give their final interview... and how will she cope... seeing the deaths of those who died for her? Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Isabella Rose's final interview of the 28****th**** Hunger Games. Enjoy the show. **

District 2: Isabella Rose

"Gosh, look at her little dimples... Isn't she adorable?" Vivienne cooed at me, and I swatted her hand away as she moved to pinch my cheek. I growled at her, but she just smiled awkwardly. Nobody knew how much I wanted to punch the small, white tattoos on her unnatural face.

"Isn't she?" The rest of the prep team chorused, and I rolled my grey eyes absentmindedly. I was dressed in a white robe, which was far too revealing for my taste.

"Let's have a look at her make-up... Adrianna, get the lipstick and the eye shadow. Oh, and don't forget the face powder and mascara. Perfect," Vivienne ordered as her stylist arrived at the scene holding a large make-up bag full to the brim with different colours and shades of every type of the Capitol-made stuff imaginable.

"Alaina, her eyebrows are dire. And look at her legs! This is a catastrophe – what was her old prep team thinking? They need to get their priorities straightened out, as it seems as though the only thing that's survived is her nail polish and manicure," Vivienne tutted to Adrianna's twin sister, Alaina, who seemed to be in charge of body preparations. Alaina nodded, and went off in search of some torturous device, probably.

"Yes, I wonder why," I muttered to myself, but nobody neither heard me nor cared what I was saying anyway.

"Lark, are you ready? If we add in some blonde highlights, they'll compliment the horrible ginger..." Vivienne's speech got no further as I pounced out of my chair and straight at her. Her eyes were wide and fearful as I pressed my face closer to hers, intimidating her.

"Don't. Call. Me. Ginger," I snarled, pushing her away and sauntering back to my chair, hips swaying. The rest of the prep team just stared as I clicked my fingers. "Just hurry up with the torment, already."

"Feisty," Lark commented as he grabbed a bottle of relatively normal looking shampoo from the counter he was leaning against. Adrianna gasped and stared at Lark like she had never seen him before in her pampered life.

"Lark! That actually made sense!"

"Jasmine and strawberry lace cocktails," Lark replied, turning back to my hair and lathering it in bubbles. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to enjoy the sensation without success. Every time I closed my eyes images of various tributes came into my head.

"You said it," Vivienne said, obviously glad that Lark was back to his old self and I was back to being tied to my seat.

"Perfect," Alaina said a few moments later, after plucking my painful eyebrows and waxing my legs. I had tried not to scream and strangle my prep team, but failed on numerous occasions. "Caesar's waiting, Bella!" Alaina trilled, and I gripped the seat as I saw red, before casually unfolding myself like a cat out of my chair.

I put on my outfit, and gasped.

It was cut into four sections. The sleeves were a beautiful, pale orange with leaves embroidered on them. The dress itself was a light, sunshine yellow, and the hem and the base had flowers and green grass on them. I wore a silver tiara, with pure, white icicles dangling down and matching earrings.

I was dressed as the 28th Hunger Games arena.

"Chop, chop!" I turned away from the mirror, and walked out of the door, head held high. I was not going to show I was weak; I was not going to show I was vulnerable; I was not going to show I was innocent; I was not going to show I was sweet; I was not going to show I was fragile; because I wasn't any of those things.

XxX

"Isabella! How nice it is to see you again!" Caesar turned towards me, and I instantly grimaced at his green lips, yellow eyes, white, icy hair and orange suit. It seemed as though he had also gone along with the four seasons' theme.

"Caesar," I said, nodding at him. He wasn't too bad, as Capitol people went. But then again, that was never really saying much.

"The interview's about to begin in just a few minutes, so feel free to look around or prepare yourself," Caesar told me, and he gave me a warm smile. It had been a while since I had seen a smile that warm and that sent shivers down my spine.

I looked around at the big room, with the audience just coming into their seats and gossiping. I felt the flash of cameras on my face, and I beamed at them sarcastically. Of course, they didn't realise, and I just heard the snap of more buttons being pushed.

The florescent lights caused me to squint, and I blocked a particularly annoying ray with my hand. Instantly, it disappeared. I smiled thankfully up at the lighting box and the men probably hovering inside, watching my every move.

"Okay, Isabella, we'll be starting in just less than a minute. Breathe, smile, and let the words form themselves. This'll be easy, trust me." And for some reason, I did trust Caesar. "Are we okay? Are we ready?" I nodded silently. "Good girl. Lights, camera, action!" The host grinned, and sat down on his seat with a flourish.

"We begin in 5, 4, 3..." one of the main cameramen said, before raising two fingers, signalling the number two, and then letting one drop, and the number one flashed in my head. Then the cameras started to roll.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with the victor of the 28th Hunger Games, Isabella Rose of District 2!" I smiled at the cheering crowd, and I could imagine the whole of Panem watching me, just me. I was a victor. I was a champion. I was _their _winner.

"Isabella, you've proved almost the whole of Panem wrong! You've gone from the scrawny thirteen year old volunteer to this strong-willed, beautiful young woman in the space of just over four days. How does that feel?" I scowled at the word scrawny, and then continued with my answer.

"It feels as though it was meant to be. I was perfectly ready to enter the Games when I did, and it shows. I was always going to be a victor, Caesar. The only question was when," I replied, and then gave another smile at the cameras for the Capitol magazines and newspapers tomorrow morning.

"I think everyone did and does admire your confidence. Now, what was your relationship with Trista? What did you think happened when she died?"

"Trista was my best friend and my sister, my confidant and my ally. But I never killed her, Caesar. It was just the rules of the Game, and there were still three of us left. One of us was always going to die." I had sworn to myself that I would not cry, and so I blinked back any tears that might have threatened to fall. I smiled wearily, just to cover my true emotions.

"Do you wish that she had won instead?"

"I would like to say that yes, I loved her enough to give my life up for her, but that isn't true. She was just an ally Caesar, and I've been in it to win it from the beginning. That never changed." He did say to just let the words form themselves, and that's why the lies just came spilling out of my mouth easily. I had always been a good liar.

"How does it feel to know that you're going home, back to your friends and family, in one piece?" Caesar asked, leaning forward. It was such a Caesar-like movement a bubble of laughter caught in my throat, but I swallowed it hastily back and turned on my signature, arrogant smirk. They couldn't know that I was broken, inside, beyond repair.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. It's just overdue, really." I laughed idly, and looked back down at my small, bare feet.

"You certainly put up one heck of a fight to get here, Isabella. Now, let's watch a recap of that epic fight. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you your 28th Hunger Games!" A screen came down behind me, and I turned to watch it. I took a deep breath, and started to dread what memories I would see again.

XxX

As usual, they began with the Reapings. My own was shown first, and I saw myself smile broadly and saunter onto the stage. I casually told the escort not to call me Bella, and waved snootily, like a queen faced with a crowd of subjects. I didn't believe that that was ever me.

Next shown was District 4, and I watched Storm's handsome face drop as Mylene's name was called as the extra tribute. I had only spoken to her a few times, while trying to convince her to join the career pack, actually. I saw the audience of District 5 mutter about Nico being chosen, and the same with the crowd of District 6 as Rosemary's name was called. Schatten, Shadow Girl, was shown from 8, and Cori volunteered for her friend in 10.

Subsequently were the chariot rides, and I grimaced at the array of colours on screen. Ivory and Sequin were shown glaring at each other, and poor Rosemary whimpered in her test tube dress. District 9 appeared on screen, with the cheese, tin and a spaghetti dress. I noticed, for the first time, that there were cuts all down small Tanya's shoulders. I gulped as I looked as the sharp metal that probably felt like a thousand blunt axes digging into her skin.

Then, the interviews began. They showed Trista's interview first, and again, I found tears pricking in my eyes. I cursed, and a few heads turned towards me, but I kept looking at the screen. They were talking about Lily, just before the timer rang. I knew more about Trista than Caesar was ever told through his small, gossipy ear-piece.

My face flashed on screen, and I gave an arrogant reply about being pegged as a victor from the age of five. Mylene then appeared, and I held my breath. She had defied the Capitol, and had stood up for the other tributes. Her family back home was probably in for some surprise soon.

Wolf was shown, his sarcastic reply sending shivers down my spine. Last year had sparked some rebellion throughout this year's tributes, especially in the interviews. Lacey was shown talking about her twin brother and her family, or in her case, lack of such. Schatten was dodging Caesar's questions, announcing that her secrets about getting out of a fire were "highly classified". Highly classified my golden crown, that is.

Brook was moaning about her pink dress and Tanya burst into tears, knowing that she was going to die. Annaliese gave her theory on life, saying that it was like an elevator, and Sam talked about little Sam being born back in District 12.

Finally, the 36 of us were shown on our metal plates. There were eager tributes and scared tributes; nervous tributes and excited tributes. And then the final gong sounded. Michael Rubins from Three was the first to die, with the word _Loser _scraped across his forehead. He was Sequin Allure's first victim.

Next was Nico O'Malley from Five, with a blunt knife stuck in his chest. He was Morganna Ren's first victim.

The third to die was Wolf Spanes from Six, with his body looking like a piece of Swiss cheese. He was Anya Rayne's first victim.

Fourth was Charlie Haven from Eight, with an arrow in his forehead and hands around his neck. He was Ivory Noire and Rolf Cadomay's first victim.

Then was Annaliese Braeburn from Eleven, with a trident plunged into her chest. She was Perkele Fin's first victim.

The final cannon belonged to Perkele Fin, with an arrow in his heart and the revenge of a lover. He was Ashton Samuels' first victim. And then the bloodbath was over, just like that. It had been a lot slower when I was there in real life, I was sure.

Mare Warrens was next to die after her fight with Sequin, when Floyd intervened and killed her for his "girlfriend". She was Floyd Barabe's first victim.

Then Marta Wren Harris' face was shown on screen, fearful and cautious as she took the knife from the big alliance's camp. And Ruse's scythe came down. As far as I knew, that was the first and last time he ever used it. She was Ruse Kennedy's first victim.

Next up were the girl alliance and a yeti-type monster, and Azalea, apparently. It was a good fight, and it was a shame I wasn't there in person, really. Azalea sacrificed herself as the three other girls got away virtually unharmed.

Poor Tanya's cannon sounded next, and I watched as vines slowly suffocated her. I always wondered how she had actually died, in the end. There was the fight between the two alliances, Gisli and Somber and Brook and Morganna. Morganna's death hit Brook hard, it seemed. I had never realised. She was Gisli Raylor's first victim.

Lacey's perfect aim made a debut appearance next, hitting Mylene in the neck and sending poison shooting through her veins. Her reaction to the poison would have been comical if she hadn't have been in mortal danger at the time. The note was the best thing, though. "In case you get thirsty."

Next were the secret lovers, Sam and Kelby, both murdered by Rolf. Poor Kelby had to watch her boyfriend die, and the pain was written clearly all over her face, intermingling with the blood. Sam and Kelby were Rolf Cadomay's second and third victims.

Schatten Tomar was shown next, and was given a mercy killing by Tristan. I was so surprised that he could ever kill anyone, especially armed just with a boomerang. She was Tristan Workle's first victim. Then there was our fight with Rolf, which started with me and Trista aiming punches and kicks at the District 1 tribute. Tara, garden girl, finally killed him, and Rory threatened her as we all stalked away from the body. He was Tara Green Flowers' first victim.

Next was the second betrayal of Anya from District Six, who stabbed Derek Tyras in the chest as he slept. He was Anya Rayne's second victim. Then there was the first appearance of Wolfotaur, or as Ashton called him, Wolfy, which Ash tricked, in a dramatic, clichéd way.

Then yet another Gamemaker trick reared its ugly head. Mylene and Rose were left to battle the Dragorpion – half dragon, half scorpion. They survived, just.

The next clip they showed I remember all too well. It was the revenge of Rory, using Quin's necklace. Only Allure would bring poison and antidote into the Hunger Games only for it to be used by somebody else. She teased garden girl, and Tara fell over trying to reach the poison antidote. Rory dropped it onto the ground, breaking the glass, and claiming that it was for Rolf as Tara's cannon sounded. She was the second victim of Ivory Noire.

The wave came crashing onto the screen, and I saw the careers part, of which most people will always remember. Trista and I, Quin and Rory, and Floyd. One large career team sharpened down to three small, deadly packs.

Floyd tried to grab Sequin's neck but she fought back, kicking and biting, before finally piercing his foot with her thigh-high boot. Good ole' Quin. She carved patterns into Floyd's body, before leaving her now signature mark on his forehead. He was Sequin Allure's second victim.

I watched as Kendal pushed Anya Rayne into the water, her screams muffled under the pressure of the liquid –they were just bubbles, pockets of air rising to the surface. She was Kendal Resista's first victim. The remaining members of the big alliance cornered Brook, but she fought back, killing the earlier murderer in the process. Kendal was Brook Callins' first victim.

Trista's voice rang out across the arena, the one word that made the fights begin. _Bang. _Mimi's knife, the one intended for Somber who disappeared at the last moment, pierced Kiera May, and Keira May fell. She was Mimi Madeline Lombardi's first victim.

Tristan was shown next as Trista and I hunted him down. Poor, kind Tristan. My rock tore at his stomach, and he fell. I never thought the simple weapon would actually kill him, but it did, against most beliefs. He was my first victim. Then the Dragorpion attacked us once more.

Somber was shown sitting in her cave, waiting for something, anything, to happen. And the feast-fight began. I saw myself stab Mimi, and I cringed as the blood splattered my black dress. She was my second victim.

Ivory and Mylene were fighting as Ashton cheered on the sidelines. Poor Rory never saw the blow coming; she was Mylene Frostblight's first victim. I looked on as, again, I saw myself stab another innocent tribute, another naive girl. Rosemary Angel was my third victim.

Lacey's dart shot Ruse in the neck as he clutched the pieces of paper from home. He was Lacey Kalex's first victim. Gisli was reading her papers next to Cori from 10, and they were both crying, tears dropping onto the ink. The knife came down so suddenly, I don't think either one of them saw it coming. She was Gisli Raylor's second victim.

The District 7 tribute, her eyes vicious and angry, killed Gisli instantly. She was Lacey Kalex's second victim. Then Wolfotaur arrived at the scene, and Lacey fell into the endless hole of mutt poison before Somber, her district partner, killed the girl quickly, and quietly. She was Somber Thrax's first victim.

Various, seven to be exact, home interviews were shown. Sequin's trainer and stylist gushed about the now-dead tribute, and Trista's foster siblings hoped that their sister, their Twista, would come home. My own family stood up for me confidently, as did Mylene's family.

Somber's friends cried for her and her parents regretted leaving her for so long. Brook's brothers were pining for her return and Ashton' siblings were finishing each other's sentences as the youngest wondered why nobody was playing hide-and-seek with him anymore.

The home interviews ended, and I saw myself and my ally approach Ashton as he cowered at my feet. Then, like a coward, I let my best friend kill him. He was Trista Angel's first victim. Mylene cornered Somber in an icy cave, and her final words were to tell some guy that she loved him. She was Mylene Frostblight's second victim.

And then Mylene got her just desert as Sequin cut out her heart while she was still alive, and again carved that dreadful word into her kill's forehead. She was Sequin Allure's third victim. I gasped as I watched Brook Callins, a fourteen year old girl from District 7 murder Sequin Allure, a seventeen year old career from District 1. _Loser, _she wrote on her forehead. Quin was Brook Callins' second victim.

I turned away from the final moments; I knew what they were already. There would be an image of me hitting the tree and throwing my token across the arena. Then I would chase after it, and then I would cut Trista's wrists. She'd walk over to the lake and drown herself. Brook would be left with me, and then she would hang herself at the entrance of the cornucopia. I would collapse, and then my body would be lifted, alive, by the hovercraft.

A song began to play as the final credits were shown, one that I remembered slightly, but didn't know completely.

_Papa, don't leave me, Mama don't cry. Papa stay strong for me; Mama don't lie. Papa, don't leave me here, Mama, dry your tears. Papa, don't leave me, Mama don't cry. Hold my hand, and watch me die. Don't leave me, don't cry. _

"Well, Isabella, those were your Games! Would you like to add any more comments?"

"I just want to go home, Caesar. Just... just let me go home." Suddenly, a message appeared across the screen as the rest of the room went dark.

_We are now one. We were once 36. We kept fighting, we tried to make it out alive, we tried to win. We were inches away from death. And then 35 of us died. We are now one. We were once 36. This was how 35 of us were murdered by our friends, out fellow tributes. This was our story. _

_We are one. We were once 36. The Games are not over yet. _

**Well, it's officially over. The 28****th**** Games have been and gone, but in the words of the mysterious black screen, they're not completely over yet! Fly Only to Fall will be posted as soon as I start to write it! Please look out for it! **

**I'm sorry for not doing the victory tour, but I think that this is a long enough chapter already! There was a lot to fit in. Isabella Rose, what **_**does **_**go through your head? She's lost a bit of her sparkle, but don't worry, it'll return shortly! **

**Thank you so much, everyone, for reading, for reviewing, for favouriting, for alerting, and for just being plain amazing 24/7. You guys are fantastic and I could never in a million years ask for better readers. This has been a long, and sometimes painful, journey, but exciting and fun as well, I hope. And now it has come to an end! Adios, my loyal subjects/readers. I shall miss you all unless you read FOtF, then, not so much. **

**Down with the Capitol!**

***~Joy~***


End file.
